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Courtti:^ WthUm, 



AND OTHER 



POEMS, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF SCOTTISH CHARACTER 

AND 



ALEXANDER FORDYCE. 



My simple Muse claims no Parnassian wreathj 
No flaunting robe on Helicon bedewed ; 

Her native manners are the strains sheM breathe, 
Love for her country, and her country's good. 



LANARK 

Printed by W. M. Borthmck ^ Co. 

FOR 

OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBUROH; 

REID & HENDERSON, WILLIAM TURNBULL, 

AND MURRAY & BONNARD, GLASGOW^ ; JOHN AJTKAIfj 

AND WILLIAM ROBERTSON, LAJfARK. 

1818. 



V^^tCu 



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3 



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. "^ Binr 

^^ sJULY 2S, 1944 






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CONTENTS. 7 

A Count}'?/ Wedding, _ - _ - - Page 18 

Tea-TaUe Tam, 45 

The Smiddle, 63 

A bad Apology for a worse Subject, _ _ _ Ql 
Address to the Aufhor''s Birth Day, on reach- 
ing his '^Ist year, - ------100 

Address to tlie Comet of ISVl, - - - - -.105 

The Ki7^k Squabble, a vision, ----- 1Q8 

Clerical Conscience, a Tale, (in imitation of 
Crabbe,) - - -.------- 116 

Address to Burns'' Grave, 1807, - - - - 119 

A Mother's Address to the Annual return of the 

day on which her injimt Daughter died, - 121 
On the death of a Fiiend, ------125 

On a Br other* s death, 128 

Inscription for a Monument to the Memory of 
Sir John Moore, --------131 

The Spail Horse, an Elegy, ----- 133 

I Supposed by a young Lady on leaving her 

■ Native for America, ------- 136 

* Law Lntelligence, Crib v. Cooper, - - - 139 
\ A Valentine for Miss >S'**** G***"** , on the 

eve of her Marriage, (wrote for a Friend,) 115 
To Walter Scott, Esq. on reading his Lady of 
the Lal-e, --* 149 



IV CONTENTS. 

To Stella, on Love, -- 153 

Petition to the Hon. the Bocwd of Excise 1812, 159 
On reading in the Newspapers that a Sow had 

'pulled a marCs watch from his poclaet, - 162 
An Essay on Old Maids, - - - - - -.165 

A ConsultatiGn,lSl(), 172 

TheHaystacli, 178 

EPISTLES. 

To Mr. John Bell, author of Cartlane Craigs, 
a Poem, - -. 183 

To the same, on the Publication of his Cartlane 
Craigs, 187 

To Mr. /*** ^**-»*******^ LanarJc, - - 190 
To Mrs. i2**% on her Wedding Night, - 195 
To Mr. George Fordyce, LeadhiUs, - - - 199 

To J W— ,Esq. a tra^iscrlpt of part, 

his Political Creed, August 1816, - - 203 
To Mr. J***** x^*****^ Newton of Douglass, 208 
To Mr. A. J. //"«*«**, Surgeon in the Hon. 

the East hidia Company s Service, - 213 
Wrote on the Hill above Enterkin, _ - - 221 

SONGS. 

The Maid's Mind — plain dealing, _ _ _ 223 

Kiss me fast my mither'^s comiiC, _ _ _ _ 225 

Tinto Bonfire, - 227 

Notes to the Country Wedding, - - - _ 229 



PREFACE. 



It is with trembling diffidence that I trace to the 
pubKc a commital of my httle vokime. The hopes, 
the fears, the breathless anxieties of a young author 
for the first-born offspring of his imagination, are 
almost become proverbial; and, in my case, tliesc 
anxieties are heightened by a conviction, that I am 
not properly qualified to 'judge v^^hatrank my poems 
will hold in the Republic of Letters. 

T do flatter myself that they will not be found 
altogether destitute of merit It were gross affec- 
tation in me to say otherwise, for wliere ever was 
the veriest pretender to poetry that had not to com- 
bat a spice of vanity? Vanity, the fraternity's beset- 



VI PREFACE. 

ing sin; but how far my sc?lf-gratulations will be 
borne out by the public voice, is a point on which 

my wildest, warmest hopes dare hardly stop to form 
a conjecture. 

From the lowly sons of unlettered life, " my 
humble compeers in the farm-house and cottage," 
my productions liave met with praise. On the 
more highly gifted sons of literature and science, I 
Iiave had no opportunity of witnessing their effects. 
Indeed my dablings are so different from the strain 
of poetry to which they are accustomed, that it 
were bordering on presumption in me to think of 
winning their suffrages on the score of composition, 
while the public have lately had so many appeals 
from self-taught authors, that even there I am afraid 
I will be unable to engraft a claim. If, hovrever, they 
should ever fall into tiie hands of any kindly heart, 
more willing to be pleased than to «■' offer the sa- 
crifice of fools,"' it may not^ be unavaihng to state 
the disadvantages under vvhich they are produced. 



PREFACE* Vli 

These may be resolved into want of education, 
want of time, and the want of a proper sphere of 
observation. On the first of these heads, a shght 
perusal will satisfy the reader that I never had any 
education more than English reading and writing, 
or rather my native dialect; and, on the second, po- 
verty, the poet's curse, never would allow me lei- 
surely to woo the muse's smile. I never in my life 
sat down purposely to write a poem— they were all 
composed amidst the noise and bustle of a work- 
shop, anxious to keep up my vv^ork, and only jotted 
down at odd moments, perhaps vveeks after, when 
the energy and lighter touches of fancy that gave 
them birtli were long gone by. To any one versant 
in fanciful composition, who knov s how to appreciate 
the momentary glow of imagination, v/aving her 
light, fliting, and fitful tints over the glowing figure, 
this, ma3diap, will stand forward excusing much 
v/ant of finishing that will be found when any 
thing like fancy is attempted. In my descriptive 
pieces, which predominate, even my friends are 



Vlll PREFACE, 

afraid that the manners I exhibit will be imbued 
with a certain tinge of locality, that may tend to 
lessen the general effect. This is a necessary evil 
attendant on my contracted span of observation; but 
I flatter myself that I have kept clear of personalities, 
and, on a closer inspection, manners will be found 
not so different, in general points, as the superficial 
observer is inclined to believe. 

In miscellaneous poetry the greatest difficulty is 
a proper selection, the partialities of an author fre- 
quently unfiting him to compare the merits of liis 
own productions. My habits of intimacy afforded 
no home-bred critic on whose judgments I could 
implicitly rely; and I am too proud, too jealous, to 
think of yielding up my MSS. to any reputed, any 
superior author, even although I had the opportu- 
nity. No! rather let them pass into the world with 
." ail their imperfections on their head,"*' than bear 
the burden of their crimes, v.hiie any portion of 
spirit they may exhibit is invariably set down to 



PREFACE. IX 

he credit of my rectifier. If, therefore, I have 
chosen improper subjects — If I have writ often in a 
jumble of language, neither Scotch nor English — if 
I have passed defective versification, and committed 
innumerable grammatical errors, they must all be 
charged to my own want of skill, for I frankly ac- 
knowledge, that I know little more about prosody, 
verbs active, and participles past, than I do about 
the Cham of Tartary — namely, that there is, or was 
such a personage. 

* Still, I am aware, that notwithstanding of all 
these disqualifying circumstances, my readers are 
noway bound to bear v>4th dullness or impertinence, 
barely, because I was not born with all the advan- 
tages of a poet. '^Vhere then shall I shelter the in- 
trusion, or find a shield to protect my presumption 
— the advice of friends. That is so stale a device 
that nobody is deceived by it. Pecuniary advan- 
tage — that is at best but a doubtful case; for, un- 
fortunately, I have lately heard that there is even 



X PREFACE. 

such a thing as " Barren Laurels!" But — the truth 
must out-«-I have an invincible ambition to move 
(however distant from them) in the same orbit with 
Hogg, with Burns, and other of our poets, who have 
shown themselves so superior to the depressing influ- 
ence of circumstance and situation! 

" Let not ambition meek my lootkss toU," &c. 

To a respectable list of subscribers, I offer mf 
warmest thanks. If any thing could stimulate me 
beyond the hope of a poet's fame, it would be a 
wish not to disgrace the disinterested exertions of a 
few friends in mj behalf: But, the dye is cast, and 
It is their corrections only that can point my future 
path. 



ERRATTA, 

Page 17, line 5, for unlaid read unlac'd. 
^^ 18, ^ 14<, {or puird read peerd. 
^v* 20, ^ S, for springing in read sp7'ingin\ 

^^ 60, ^* 11, for ^A^w read ^^r. 

^^ 68, verse 2, for leg-fauld read lea^auld. 

^^ 82, line 2, for z^a^ read were. 

^^^ 95, ^ 16, for lye read Zy. 

,^k^ 105, verse 1, for mighty read mightly. 

^^ 118, line 4, iorfamal read^amae. 

*.v^ 154, first line of last verse for / read In. 

^^ 1 70, line 3 from the foot, for bedlam read beldam , 

^^ 211, note, for was read z^^r^. 

^-..v* 225, title, for ttz^ read me. 



#i3cms» 



A COUNTRY WEDDING. 



*< AVas e'er in Scotland heard or seen 
Sic dancing and array, 
Either at Falkland on the green. 

Or Peebles at the play, 
As was o' wooers, as I ween, 
At Christ's Kirk on a day ; 
They came in Kitties' washin' clean. 
And new kirtles o' gray." 

Chrisfs Kirk on the Green, 



XXAiL to the dawning morn! thrice happy clay! 
The orient streaks which round thy temples play. 
Will scarce be lost in mid-day's beaming sun. 
Before young William hopes to be made one 
With his dear Kate. The union springs ofF lo • c^ 
And Hope draws blessings from the powers above. 
A 



14 

William had tracM the vacant round of youths 
Had felt, had bent, before this sacred truth, 
" It is not good that man should be alone.'' 
He did not seek to have a wife who shone 
In all the modern trappings of the race, 
Or yet 'cause beauty's bloom was on her face; 
But one, whom he thought nature had designed. 
To deck with inward beauties of the mind. 
True, Kate was fair — her cheeks of rosy dye, 
Drew lustre from her dark, her beamy eye, 
Which shed intelligence on every feature: 
Her taper waist, than which nought could be neater. 
Was borne above as white, as shapely shanks, 
As ever tript on Clutha's flowery banks: 
Her swelling bosom met the fanning wind. 
With every soft emotion of her mind — 
A mind which William, from her infant years. 
Had watch'd, with hope, alternate mix'd with fears; 
But now confirm'd, stable on reason's throne, 
Show'd temper, taste, congenial with his own. 
He'd seen her meek, her quiet spirit ruffl'd; 
He'd seen her smiles in just resentment muffl'd: 
But, like a lake, whose peaceful bosom shows 
The pure, the spotless image of repose; 



15 

If chance a stone the hmpid cahn divide, 

Resentful waves circle from side to side, 

High spouts the vraters, foaming bubbles boil. 

And bristling seems to brave the world a-while. 

O harmless rage ! Short-liv^d the blustering bellow. 

Each circle sinks more narrow than its fellow; 

Shadows begin to settle on its breast — 

Another shiver — all again is rest. 

Such was her mind, so cloudless, so serene. 

Remove the cause, Kate was herself again. 

He'd seen her move through flatfry's fairy field, 

And not one jot of dignity to yield; 

He'd seen her wet with slander's chilling spray, 

Yet rise unspotted as the orb of day; 

The friend, the lover, he had prov'd and prais'd; 

Mother and wife on the same soil are rais'd. 

Hence, on this hopeful day, no fears annoy 

His proud anticipations, all are joy! 

Not such the mood in which Kate met the morn. 
Her gentle breast, by soft emotions torn. 
With anxious feeling ey'd the important day> 
Wishing, 'yet fearful — sad, yet pleas'd and gay, 
A^ 



16 

Her love for William knew no check, no bound, 
But, Ah ! that love rested on sacred ground ! 
'Twas mix'd with some of that respectful awe, 
"Which mind immortal must from mortals draw : 
Of reason, seated on its noblest throne, 
The brow of man, begirt with virtue's zone. 
Glancing her keen, her piercing eagle eyes, 
Through all the flimsy doublings of disguise; 
She felt the power, the dignity rever'd, 
Yet clung for support to the rock she fear''d. 
Still wgiuld the prospect of an untry'd state. 
With ail its unprov'd duties, rush on Kate; 
She knew that writ, in that one short word Wifty 
Was more than thousands read, perhaps, thro' life. 
Other regrets into her bosom flow. 
Regrets which minds, less delicate, ne'er know; 
Yet to be crown'd a Scepter'd Monarch's pride. 
She would not parted William from her side. 
O happy pair ! Let's trace their wedding day. 
The Muse will never, surely, say us nay. 

The Castle bell had breakfast toll'd, 
Far on the air the sound had fled; 



17 

See, comin' yonder, eyer the wol5, 
Fair Katie's flittin slowly led:l 
Bottle and welcome, bridegroom haste ! 
Aunt Rachers mounted on Martin's aiver;2 
See that the carts be safe unlaid. 
For Martin's kend for a tricky shaver. 
Tlie wheel and the reel are safe let down, 
Emblem o' thrift! What a sackfu' hnt!3 
" Bridegroom, bridegroom, ye're a lucky loon''-*- 
Tak' care of that tub, for the pigry's in't.* 
" The door is but strait, edge up the tub. 
Now we may pass wi' an eery pingle,"" 
Martin's fingers—^' God, sic a rub !" 
Crash goes the tub, an' the pigs play jingle. 
" Ah, well-a-day!" aunt Rachael sigh'd, 
'^ But the tea-ware's safe, an' they're no a' there. 
Only some Waterloo sherds," ^she cry'd; 
It's a word that has mony a heart made sair. 
" And the cupboard's fu' — how the crystal's shine. 
They're a present frae John i' the Beilstanes lady; 
Here's t'ye, bridegroom! 'twas me brought the wine^ 
If the bed's were made, then a' is ready — .^ 
Saftly, lad, ye may sleep this night, 
The sheets are callar as ony gowan^ 
A3 



18 

Sax pair o' bknkets wad smoor ye outright. 
We'll saddle light, an' keep room for rowen. 
An here's twa sarks, frae the Holland reed,^ 
Snaw-white bleach'd by your ain black deary; 
Dress yourselves, bid the bestman speed. 
For the day's far gaen, an' the bride may weary .^ 

Scarce were the bridegroom's garments on, 
Jimpiy the bestman was array'd. 
When in came Wat, Robin Roy, Cheap John, 
Wi' their daughter's three, and M'Kinnon's maid. 
" Gude morning, lad, ye look douf and blae — 
Shame! O shame! is it thus you yield? 
Look yoursel', cheer up, send the sign away, 
And see that the braw white wand be puU'd;? 
It's the wand of peace. Who's next tuck'd up? 
Bring's back the stick? L — -d, man, be cheery ! — 
The halter's no yet begun to grup — 
Sic a face as that, an' she'll no come near ye." 

William Avould smile, and eye his friends askance; 
Again their wit at his expence would glance; 8 
Their jest's he bandy'd round the ring fu' ghb, 
Then took the road, with them, to fetch his rib. 



19 

Two chairs are set, bridegroom and bride sit there, 
One look of love is all that each dare send, 

The " Man of God'' enters " with solemn air'" — 
Stand up, join hands, let each, let all attend. 

Hear, while he tells the origin and cause 

Of marriage rites, by heaven's appointment sent, 

The shame, the curse, attend its broken laws, 
The peace, the comfort, in a life well spent. 

" Think not that each may have a separate law, 
Blended in one, your interests must unite. 

To love, to cherish, let the balance draw 
With equal tenor, on to realms of light. 

" And now, let's hear, are no objections made? 

If any, peal them in a voice of thunder!" 

The knot is ty'd, since nothing can be said, 

" Whom God hath Johul, let 710 man put astm' 
derP 

Much joy ! Much joy ! from all sides on them prest. 
Amen, Amen ! God's blessing w ith them rest ! 



20 

Now they are join\l, let the hroesers ply; 9 
Jump, jump, jump, half a dozen's springing in! 

Four o' their splutters are soon put bye, 
" It was only for fun,'" an' the loud laugh's ringing. 

Rin, cooty Rob, ye're a neck-length a-hin, 
Tho' but short frac thehoughsthey are liftin' likewud, 

Stride, Davie Puff! for it wad be a sin, 
Were yon woodifu' wasp to cast sa't on your fud; 

Think, Davie, think, that the lasses are seeih'; 
Your auld wifie's dead, an' ye're haflins in love; 

Now! — What a shape!— How his coat tails are 
fleein'! 
Its now, or its never, your mettle maun prove. 

Spring again, that's your sort! Davie, Davie, a's 

your ainf 
Cooty Rob, cut him short I — Now he near's liim on 

the plain. 

Bellows, breast, an' houghs of yew. 
Lungs and legs are at it now. 
Arm for arm, an' foot for foot; 
Doors are cram'd, and windows jut. 



Crouds Stan"* thick on every knowe; 

Out comes Collie, Bov/, v/ow, wow! 
Bounce, yelp, yelp, on their shins wi' a scud, 
Stot, stot, stot, Davie wallers i' the mud! 
Ah, poor Davie ! His cassimere breeks — 
What a vile, vile spot ! it'll sit there for weeks. 

" Fye, fye, Rob! ye might aye looketback, 
Ifs no wi' a Lot, or frae Sodom ye rin" — 

Rob gi'ed a smudge o"* a laugh, but near spak*^ 
Till the broe was his ain, and a shilling paid in. 

Here comes the bottle and the glass, 10 Rob, Rob, 
It was rather ovvTe sair to bid Davie drink 

To a double dog-tax; ev'n the patience of Job 
Wad a' fail'd to have seen your mischievous wink. 

Stop, bride, stop ! its your ain cottage door; 
See that the bread and the cheese be ready — 

Quick, get a napkin, her bonnet spread o'er; 
Grush goes the dreaming-hread — pickPt up lady! 

<« O ''ave gotten bread,'' and " Wlia wants cheese?^' 
Gae niffer ^ bit, for the bride's ta'en ben; 



^2 

Her auld guid-mother presents her the keySjls 
And J " you're welcome hame to your ain fire-en"."" 

Draw the big-chair in, it's on that she rnaun sit; 
Gi'e die ribs a ringe, an' the fire a chap; 

Aff wi' your glove, for the crook maun flit 
A link or twa, and synejriets may drap. 

Fidler, come here, gar your cat-gut skirl ! 
Bride, are you ready, for dinner to march? 

Wr " You're welcome hame,"l3 gar her heart- 
strings dirl. 
Till her bosom heave white thro' that gauzy arclx, 

Bestman, see that the bride be plac'd 
At the right table-head — mind the rump is her ain,14 

Sodden and roast. Let the bridegroom haste, 
And see that each guest has no cause to complain. 

Already a hustle is rising for seats. 
That's right, that's right! let ilk lass get her lad— 

Cooty Rob, mind your tails — man, take care o' 
the plates — 
Gif the dinner were bye, ye'se get room to parade. 



23 

But soft, such tripping measure is not mete. 
To paint the dignified, the solemn sweet, 
Impressive manner, void of pomp or show, 
In which old Gaffier^s aspirations flow- 
In which the man, all simple as his tale, 
Implores a blessing with the present meal! 
Breathes out a wish. That mirth may know no gall^ 
And that the meeting may be bless'd to all ! 
Amen ! In spite of spirits mounting high, 
Choak to the lip, and ready just to fly; 
This solemn invocation cheks a while 
The bursting laugh, and sinks it to a smile. 

But soon, too soon, our best impressions wear; 
Swift is the laugh that chaseth folly's tear — 
Oile drop for friendship fills youth's glisfning eye, 
The next fleet breeze, m.ost frequent, wipes it dry! 
Not that the Muse would blame, or think amiss, 
Her frolic gambols in a scene hke this. 
Far from it. Let the heart of youth expand. 
And love, and joy, put forth their influence bland: 
But mirth and mischief, are not sure of kin ; 
Then, ah! be sure and none of it begin. 



Come drop that bone; shame, what a greasy splatch, 
Martin, take care, for Anne is on the watch. 
Aye, now, that's well, that volley was right aim'd! 
These are attentions Anne's own conduct claimed; 15 
The waggish brat, 'twas her began the trade, 
And 'tis but mete, with interest, she be paid. 

But now comes round the bride's ain lusty cheese: 
" A little bit — I'll help you, if you please." 
The bottle foUow^s: " Bride, come, here's your health, 
A merry night, prosperity and wealth!" 
The toast goes round — poor Kate, abash'd and sad, 
Dare hardly look to give tlr accustom'd nod. 
Now, for the Anthem. Hugh, you best can sing; 
Join hands across, and let the kebcrs ring.lG 



ANTHEM. 



^' Weel may we a' be — 
'' 111 may we never be — 
'' Gad bless the king, and this company !" 



^5 

Heav'n send this young pair, 
Kind late, and canty air — 
God bless us a' — merry may we be« 

Their choral notes are peaPd on high, 
A ruff of thunder rends the sky. 
Encore, encore! from all sides sounded. 
Again the welkin high resounded; 
A third essay — the third is best. 
And hands and throats are laid at rest. 

Come now, turn out; the dinner seats must move, 
EVe you your feats upon the floor can prove: 
The night is good, the stacks are clear of props, 
A game at Bogle might digest your chops; 
Perhaps some pair, whom love and fortune bless, 
l\iay steal together, and may snatch a kiss — 
Whisper a grateful assignation home, 
And pledge their hearts, tho' eyes all night should 

roam. 
Yes, it is so— -I had a parting gledge 
Of one fond couple stealing down yon hedge: 

But leave them there; for, hear, the fidler's at it 

The bride's reel thisl7 — Lef s see how she will foot it? 
B 



Why, not amiss. A good attempt indeed, 
Few feet are there seem moulded upon lead: 
Those foes to dancing, apathy and corns, 
Find here no entrance for their ugly horns; 
Whenever art, or grace, begin to pause. 
Spirit and energy takes up the cause. 
Each light-heerd nymph, while music thrills her heart, 
Springs up, self-taught, a mistress of the art: 
Who could have thought, learned only in Court 

breeding, 
To see such dancing at a Country Wedding? 
But, lo! comes one whose influence will steal 
O^er every heart, and double-spring each heel, 
The great Punch Bowl, snug in its corner placed; 18 
We pay our homage e'er we dare to taste, 

Q thou great source of happiness and woe, 
Chearer of heart, and scourge of purse below! 
Bond of affection, stirrer up of strife! 
Kindler of wit, and enemy of life! 
Whose potent waves, circling on glassy bed, 
Such soft, such winning exhalations shed. 
As tempts thy votaries frequent to forego 
The chains of sense, for others forg'd by woef 



^7 

Say, by what magic numbers, I may tell. 
How all these opposites unite, and dwell 
In one, the same, inexplicable elf! 
Lefs have a sip? Thoult help to clear thyself. 
Aye, now I feel it! Thy inspiring aid 
Dispels each doubt, and brightens every shade: 
I see, that thou, like other gifts misused. 
Are only evil when thou art abus''d: 
And where the blessing Providence hath giv'n, 
Whereon excess wont mar the face of heav'n? 
The tulip''s splendour, and the rose's glow. 
Would soon disgust, were nothing else to grow— 
Ev'n life itself, beyond a certain term, 
Grows tasteless oft, from faculties infirm: 
So 'tis with thee, thy vivifying power, 
Sheds on each blunted sense a cheering show'r— 
The toiling hedrt redoubles every spring, 
And bursting spirits mount on airy wing; 
But, overcharge the system, drink too deep, 
And every sense will soon embruted sleep. 
Stop, then, deluded mortals! pause and think, 
Before you rush on inebration's brink. 
It needs no more. The foaming gulf below 
I'l^ill dash the cup of excess from thee, so 

B2 



^8 

That reason s empire, plac'd on Vantage ground. 
The sweet and bitter may no more confound: 
Then might we hail our native bowl the best. 
The purest juice, by fermentation dress'd; 
A noble cistern, great storehouse of wit, 
Parent and nurse of many a lucky hit. 
The scourge of melancholy, cure of care. 
The lover's prompter, and the poor man's lear! 
Had jolly Bacchus known thy power divine, 
He had not quaff 'd content with vapid wine; 
Would Frenchmen taste the barley-steemed cup. 
And still with brandy burn their entrails up? 
Or who, that feels thy genial warmth, would come 
And seek to charge their brain wdth clogging rum? 
O no, not one, with mind unwarp'd, will fail, 
Thee, purest bev'rage, kindest, best, to hail! 

Bride, take a sip, it will do thee good; 

Martin's alrciidy seated: 
But, " A Country Dance,"" has been bawled aloud. 

We must see how the figure's treated. 



Jack Wright at the head— his handsome leg, 
His friend, Lucy Smirk — her sarsenets on; 



S9 

A dashin' pair; but Lucy, I beg, 
'Mid the mazy dance, you beware of John. 
His ogles, leers, his attentions, jeers 
At the sheep- fac'd look in which love's array 'd; 
His half-drawn sighs, his bewitching fears, 
Are too, too much for an artless maid! 
When tracing the dance, its doublings, tropes, 
X.ittle thinks Lucy she weaves a snare, 
With tiptoe spirits, and baseless hopes, 
May catch, may t\sitch, her ain heart-strings sair. 
Love is a toy we can seldom place 
In the breach, the pass, 'twixt hope ^nd despair — 
It's joy full orb'd, a delusive chase, 
Or agony leaning on rayless care. 
See its effects, in part, pourtray'd. 
On the face, the dress, the troubled e'e, 
Of Mary M'lver, the sweetest maid 
E'er brush'd May-dew from a clover lea. 
Andrew was tender, constant, kind — 
Their hearts were knit in the bands of love; 
But joy is fleeting, and fortune bhnd, 
[n a luckless hour did Andrew rove: 
Fain would he cling to his former hope, 
3ut Mary was hurt, her soul in pain, 
B3 



30 

tlet big heart spurn'd at the faithless fop, 
And hid regret with thy vail disdain. 
It's too, too thin, sweet Mary, my dear. 
That sickly smile, that attention strain'd. 
To the fulsome stuff salutes your ear. 
Are faithless tell-tales can ne'er be train'd! 
Andrew, poor Andrew's in pitiful case; 
His partner is lovely, lively, free. 
He try'd to make love — with a wretched grace. 
While seeking, yet shunning, his Mary's e^e: 
Now, they meet! that electrical touch 
Unhinges resentment, floods each vein, 
The rushing blood gives an onward twitch. 
And recedes as quick to the heart again; 
Agitate wildly, the figure lost. 
She starts at herself with a deeper blush. 
Springs for her place, but, confusion toss'd, 
Turns wrong, and again gets a ruder push! 
Abash'd, repentant, j^et pouting proud, 
Andrew grew giddy, heart-sick, and sore. 
Thousand emotions around him crowd — 
Go! you have happiness yet in store. 

Lucy, that's well^ you have catch'd each note. 



31 

You're warm: " Hand a glass for my partner here; 
A little sip more to moisten your throat — 
Some carvy — a few, if you please, my dear.'" 
" Thank you. Sir.'' " Right and left at foot." — 
' Stand to your place, and attention there.' 
" Now for a wee drap well brew'd jut; 
Martin, my boy, have ye ought to spare?" 
' O plenty, Tarn, and here's to your lass.' 
" Hush! Loanfit's gaun to gi'e us a verse:" 
' Come, weet your whistle.' — " Another glass, 
And — hark! for singers like him are scarce." 



SONG. 

Here are we met, a canty core, 

A merry set, I true, are we; 
Come, bend your houghs, shut in the door, 

And let us taste the barley brie. 

CHORUS. 

" We're no, no fu', we're no sae fu', 
^But just a drappie in our e'e, 



32 

<^ The cock may craw, the day may daw, 
" But still well taste the barley brie." 

The selfish sordid soul we scorn, 

Ilk face, ilk heart is blythe and free; 

But he who would of care be shorn. 
May come and taste the barley brie. 

" We're no, no fu**, &a 

If mirth, if wit ye would enjoy, 

Or hearts un^vrap'd with mysterie, • 

The doubtful watch, the douce decoy 
To warm their hearts with barley brie. 

" We're no, no fu", &c. 

Observ^e yon lad salute his lass, 

With distant, formal, fear'd How cTye; 

Poor chittering fool, take up your glass — 
No friend to love like barley brie. 

" We're no, no fu', &c. 

That other see, who in the neuk, 
Sae coziely her mu' doth prie. 



S3 

Learn, throatless dastard, by that look, 
His lips are wet with barley brie! 

" We're no, no fu', &c. 

It brightens up the face of age. 

It decks their tale with youthful glee; 

It dubs the beardless boy a sage. 
The potent fumes of barley brie* 

" We're no, no fu'', &c. 

If scant o'*lear, if prest wi' care, 

If purseless, pennyless, you be; 
If love reject, or friends neglect, 

O come and taste the barley brie. 

a We're no, no fu**, &c. 

The chorus rang baith loud and lang. 
Their favourite Bardie made it, 

" With a silent round be his memVy crown'd,'" 
That tribute due weVe paid it. 

" Now, Anna, dear, your song let's hear. 
The one which you con'd last night — 

Anne's health and song — nay, now get along, 
No cause in the world for fright," 



$4 

Of Music^ power the lassie's lay, 

In ready numbers ran, 
Her timid notes seem'd oft to stray, 

Yet centered still in plan: 
While sweetly wild warm nature'*s child, 

On trembling tones doth toil. 
The best comment that can be lent, 

Is man's approving smile. 



SONG. 

Sweet Music, love-inspiring maid! 

Ah, how swift on echo swelling, 
Can thy shivering tones pervade 

Th"* inmost cell of passions dwelling; 
Hand in hand thy sister dancing, 

Lightly trips it over the plain; 

Meek-ey'd pleasure see advancing. 
Graceful mirth, on tiptoe prancing. 
While each mortal joy enhancing, 

Love, rosy love, lights up the sceoe. 



35 

Can the face of sullen sorrow, 
E'er trace the dancer's mazy heel? 

Who can brood o'er dark to-morrow^ 
When footing at the Highland Reel? 

Does the dregs of cankering care 
E'er sable o'er the face of day, 

O quickly let thy steps repair, 

O quickly let thy bosom share 

Our festive dance, some heav'n-born air 
Will chace the demon far away. 

A peal of thunder greets the blushing maid, 
Her raptur'd lover clasps her to his breast! 

Again some merry harmless prank is play'd. 
And joy's loud laugh re-echoes the rude jest. 

Poor Davie Puff is in pitiful plight; 
Cooty Rob is exulting, that's easily seen, 

For it's hinted sometimes in the course of the night, 
That, in meeting the dog, Davie met wi' a frien'; 

Fain were he courting with Kirsten M'Vie, 
But aye when o' love, or ought like it, he speaks, 



86 

The paukie like blink of her downcast e^e 
Says, " Davie, remember the spot on your breeks!"" 

A dispute is held in that corner there, 
If shuttles or shavings bring maist to the State: 

The one is displaying a Webster's lear, 
The other the wit o^ a carpenter's pate. 

The weaver asserts, with a solemn face, 
If burn his shuttle, the State would sink: 

The carpenter swore, with an equal grace. 
His ship was the life-boat would haul a brink. 

Waldferms, wi' his cloak, is surrounding the bowl, 
He's just coosinm his great barley stack; 

Jack Subset leans on him, and, cheek for jowl. 
They're discussing, and lauding, the fam'd Corn 
Act — 

" Bottom'' enrag'd, as well as he might be. 
Leaves " Quince," and commences a dreadful attack. 

Drifts Waldferms and it on a bottomless sea^ 
And, in so many words, wishes Bonaparte back. 



37 

Martin is bent upon shaking his fit; 
Aunt Rachael must trip it with maiden air, 

She spreads her tails, jees her head a bit. 
And skips as hght as the youngest there: 

The younkers are smirking to see her side-cutting. 
And pointing at Martin's untutored fling, 

But a merrier heart on the floor'^s not footing, 
Or firmer step to be found in the ring. 

The barley brie is beginning to work—* 
The fidler has drain'd his cup to the dregs, 

Quick and more quick gars his catgut squirk. 
Till the barn's ae steerie of lungs and legs. 

The nymph that had cheeks of a rosy dye. 
Is crimson all over her panting breast. 

And the tell-tale glance of her softer eye, 
Invites to a lip that would fain be prest. 

Jacky and Lucy are snug in a neuk; 
Lucy, I told you of Jack to beware! 

A voluble lover, ne'er yet partook 
Of passion, soft) delicate, pure as aii*: 
C 



58 

Its him who retreats when another is pressingy 
Respectful and passive, though drooping with care, 

Who trembles, who stammers, and pays his court 
blushing — 
O that is the man who your bosom should share. 

Cooty Rob, in his fleet-foot importance, is spiteing. 
That Jack should get Lucy sC night to himseP, 

He coaxes Rob Roy, while a fairen-wife cheating, 
To ask, if she^s aye in the strae neuk to dwell? 

^^ Go try for a reel, when, if that can be granted^ 
Well see and get keepin' the lassie a wee; 

It's no that ane cares, but he's constantly vaunted 
Aye sin' the last ball, when he took her frae me." 

Robin Roy gets his reel, but a promise is made, 
When the dance is concluded, to see her safe back; 

Cooty Rob grups her shawl, rather rudely, and said 
Some opprobrious words, which brought Wright hi 
a crack. 

A strussel ensues, " Let the lass get her wiir— - 
Poor Lucy, her sarsenet slip's riven in twa; 



39 

Eacli swore the last di'op of his blood he v. ould 
spill, 
But it ends, at the last, in a tug and a draw: 

O for a touch of a C?ih or a Cooper, 
A Miller of mettle to Jib you well; 

Some knight of the^wc?/ would swearlike a trooper. 
And give ^^ou a bit of the science to smell! 

But here's the bride's supper, sit down take a tastin'. 
Afraid of each other, none else need take fright. 

And ev'n tho' two fools were each other a basting 
Xet that not disturb a harmonious night. 

Come, bride, lay about ye, and set an example; 
It's porter, and whisky, and sugar, and bakes; 

If the stock o' your suppers be a-like the sample, 
O well may you bless your ain dear Land o' Calces! 

But what's a' the hurry? The night's no far spent 
yet, 
The moon, in her pride, is Quothqan-lawbutspiehng, 

I've seen when the sun muckle higher wad glentit 
Ere lads, wi' their lasses, frae dances were steahng 



40 

" You must not stay/' go then, but custom Is 
pressing, 
That Bob-afe Bowster be danced ere you go; 19 
We must close in the door, tho** constraint be dis- 
tressing; 
Bestman, let us see where the napkin you'll throw: 

That's plenty o' capers, come, kiss and be done, Sir, 
Another, another, and round, round you go, 

The circle encreases; that squeak in the tune, Sir, 
Is meant, by the fidler, more kissing to show. 

So far all is well: for each spirit is high. 
And what else had been deem'd, by a delicate mind, 

Offensive, disgusting, has room to pass by, 
As a something which modesty leaves undefined; 

Yet, still it has traits ought to stamp on its brow 
The seal of rejection, the mark of the beast: 

See Mary M'lver is forc'd to allow 
Yon impertinent wretch on her red lips to feast! 

And mark, as the seats are by one and one clearing, 
That painful suspense when the napkin goes past. 



41 

With soul at her hp, not a one but is fearing^ 
Is dreading to sit, and be hfted the last. 

The sad victim see, her big heart at her eyes, 
Thro' the tear-steamed mist, ah! now straining in vain; 

Far distant is he who her kisses would prize: 
Whaf s meant for amusement should never give pain! 

Come, hush, moralizer, the dance is concluded — = 

Ho! Pelisses, plaids, cloaks, and big coats! — that's 

right — 

Let the chill night-shed damps from your pores be 

excluded; 

And lads, who have lasses, I wish jou good nighto 

But, Martin, fie. Martini to leave a bowl fu', 
We had thought you were steel frae the head to the 

heels, 
Sit do^vTi, man, sit down, Robin Roy''s gaun to spew. 
And there's aye some diversion when cadgers coup 
creels. 

Martin was never averse to a glass, 
■Could never refuse when a friend did pi:ess; 

C3 



4^ 

He lov'^d the former, he lov''d the latter. 
But loy'd a roar and a row much better^ 
Hence, it was marrow to Martin's bones, 
To hear the fidler unscrew his drones. 
And exhort Rob Roy, after bockin' his broe, 
To rise and prepare for another set too. 
Itwas then that the drouthysome neighbours about, 
Whose beds were at hand, coupit clean cap out. 
'Twas then Davie Puff had the pleasure to see 
Cooty Rob as black as his ain breek-knee; 
His health was, with flattering irony, drunk, 
And Robin, resolving to prove he had spunk, 
Was everly sure his glass bottom to drain. 
Till ony wee likeness he might had o' brain 
Was fairly o''erwhelmed by the bizz in his pow. 
And down sunk our hero his barley to bow. 

Then up roseCheap Jock, with stentorian lungs. 
To propose, as a toast, 'mid the mad strife o' 

tongues, 
" The memory of him who was fleet in the race. 
And a rope for the dog that wrought Davie's dis- 
grace." 
His wit was received with a burst of applause; 
But scarce had the orator pouched his tauze, 



is 

When reeling around his capacious pate, 

Some dribbles o^ cauld thing brought Jack frae 

his seat! 
The ranks were closed up, and the cry became strong, 
For a lass, for a proverb, a tale, or a song: 
The ' Exile of Erin,' with ' WiU's Peck o"" Ma't,' 
The ' Sprig of ShiUelah,' and ' Herrin' in Sa't,' 
' King Coul,' ' Highland Whisky," all chorus and 

glee, 
Were blended alternate with Jockey's Bean Tree! 
In short, it was Babel, confusion and riot. 
The auditors loud, and the orators quiet. 

But whereas the bridegroom? Ha! already shut in, 
Come, come, all's not o'er yet — withdraw that bar- 
pin; 
The bestman and maid must, at least, have admis- 
sion. 
Your night-heads to dress is in part their commission. 

Now, Kate, by my trouth,ye have gi'en him a cowl, 
Wi' a tap like the peak of a Highlandman's bonnet!20 

It hings at his lug like the bells of a focl^ 
The dew of impatience already upon it. 



Dear, man! we're gaim off, if the bride wad let's 
see her. 
Bestman, is her mutch-bord o' lawn or o' lace? 

Poor Kattie blush'd red, like a rose on the briar, 
And deep in the bed-clothes she hid her fair face. 

Respect her feelings — let's withdraw. 
Custom, now v/e've kept thy law^; 

The mutch and night-cap both are on — 
To-morrow, mind, we'll see thee; 

The curtain's dra^vn — you're left alone— 
Glide night, and joy be wi' thee! 21 



TEA-TABLE TALK. 



If we spare any who have heads to hit; 
Be they yotmg or old, he or she, 
Cuckold, or cuckold makers, 
May we ne'er hope to see a chine again!" 

Shakespeare. 



v^^^x/vvV'^^v^^'W^ 



X HE night was December, the fields they were bare. 
The sky was serene, altho' biteing the air, 
When twa vet'rans in scandal, more keen than the 

season. 
Held paction, their neighbourhood's conduct to blazon. 
Meg Maulefamej rear'd high o%' her Tintack-like 

hurdles 

A trunk, might have held half a dozen J — P 's; 

A face that had bleach''d in the sun fifty simmers. 
Yet, strange the' it seem, there are some glaikei 

limmers 
Who roundly assert, with a self-cheering smile, 
It would still be no worse for a buke or a boil: 



46 

Slie was maiden confessed; but,in crossing life's stream, 
Amidst wrecked reputations that round her did swim, 
Her fair virgin honours were a** worn to tatters; 
And tlio"* there perhaps might be transient clatters. 
As malice, to whisper in her under-tone, 
That few, few indeed, would have e'er put them on; 
While her prude spiteful glunch, said, each bridal 

occasion, 
*' I wear ev^'n these tatters against inclination;"" 
Yet, a better companion for tea-table talk, 
We could hardlj have found in a summer day's walk. 

Tibby Tattle, her cronnie was lank as a Grew, 
And where Maulefame was grey, Tibby Tattle was 

blue: 
She was sick-nurse to all would her merit confess, 
And had tears on her cheek for each kind of disti'ess, 
Yet, forbearance itself almost whispered aloud. 
That her charity sought to be seen in a crowd — 
That she spared no expence to catch clashes and lies, 
Among teazers and tow-carders whang'd down the 

cheese. 
And sent round milk and whey 'mong her cotters 

like water, 
Provided they only would pay her in clatter. 



47 

Be this as it may, if the reader can bear it 
With patience, and follow, their crack, he may hear 
it. 

Maggy Maulefame began: — 

O, my dear Mrs. Tattle,, 
You have excellent teaf Did you hear of the battle? 
Jamie Pelt and his wife — but I ettfd nae ither 
Than snarling and biting, sic bairns gaun tliegither. 

TATTLE. 

Weel a wat that is true. They ken naething ava, 
Glaiket runts, now-a-days, but to busk themsel's bra\ 
Thretty snaws had blawn by, ere I durst tak' a man, 
An"* I grat, e''en sair greeting to think upon't then; 
But Tam Tattle, kind soul! wasna' easy said nay, 
So I venturYl at last, and v>^eVe ne'er rued the day. 

MAULEFAME. 

But the case was quite different, Tibby, wi'' you; 
Ye had wit in your pow, sC the ends to see through. 
And, baith cannie, baith kindly, your bairn-time sae 
bra" 



48 

Has win up, meat and claith like, without crack or 

flaw — 
They aj:e bonny, an** gude, that's the best thing ava. 

TATTLE. 

Tweel, poor things, wi' a blessin", they'll do weel 

aneugh, 
And are seldom found idle when Tarn yokes the 

pleugh; 
Their providin's a' spun by their ain hands already^ 
Tho' I say't, sudna say't, it might serve ony lady; 
NelPs made o' her ain a gude lang wab o' linen. 
And Grizie has e'en a braw slight o' the spinnin'. 
Forbye tikes and towls, made when tentin' the 

beese. 
They have a' gotten twal pair o' blankets the piece, 
An' ye ken by yoursel' if we can be ca'd idle; 
Sic hanlins as ours gi'es nae time to draw bridle. 
If milkness be managed wi' prudence and art; 
(An' there's nane better sorted than yours in the 

part,) 
But I sudna tell a', for I've heard that our Nelly, 
Gude bless her! has aften been scorn'd wi' your Billy. 



49 



HAULEFAME. 

Should it happen the morn, I could hae nae ob- 
jection; 
May it ere be his lot to form sic a connection! 
Haddin house by himser, or led-ferms is nae plan; 
But, O I've been griev'd wi' my mother's gudeman! 
He nae mair needs a wife then a cart the third 

wheel, 
Yet is silly eneugh to be courtin' the creel: 
And yon wheedhn'* monkey, who dwalls in the park. 
Little imp, its no lang sin' she hadna a sark, 
Has been coaxin'', an flnting, the impudent brat! 
It is easy to see what she fain wad be at; 
But, gif e'er its a match, he may part wi' his mailen, 
Sic fresh water skiffs are no ehancy to sail in. 
Neither ballast nor bottom, they're easy upset — 
She wad soon get him toss'd in the whirlpool of debt; 
Nay, perhaps, never stan' to mak** him a horn'd beast, * 
Mind her dealins wi' him Avas ca'd after the priest; 
But if ance the warld mends wi' thae no-ane-kens- 

whats. 
They think a' should be coor'd by their bra' glancin 

brats! 

D 



.50 



TATTLE. 



Na, ye ne'er made a truer observe in your life, 
For as I said to Millclap and Northland's gudewife, 
Sin' Black Jock got a clag, he has neVr been himsel". 
And his lasses, tho' scarce crttpin out o' the shell. 
Are begun to look prim, an** let fa' that the men 
Are beginning already to smell at their den. 
It is hard to believe, yet must own that I saw. 
The last winter, where something had paidl'd the 

snaw. 
And tlie neebours ken weel what I tell ye is true. 
That their house was gin night a perpetual hiloo: 
But I just said to Tarn, it's nae credit to yours, 
That sic doin's are done in a cot house o' ours! 
Sae they'll a' bae to tramp— -let them thank Henny's 

airs, 
Pridefu' slut, wi' her lads! now its no that ane cares; 
But its right to keep shuthers aye under the head. 
An' a handlesser tapie I seldom ere see'd. 
Neither in her, nor on her, except flesh and bluid— 
If Thrumstrings come till her, he comes for nae 

gude. 



51 



MAULEFAME. 



Ay, ye weel might say that, if Thrumstrings wad 
disgrace; 
But there is not a ruttisher wretch in the place. 
Tither night he cam** in to our house for his tea, 
When the letcherous dog fell a pukin** at me; 
But I gied him his ditty — ^lie'll no grien again 
To gar me grup his hens when he''s payin' the kain; 
Wastna horrid, in him, to gang brag o'' his shame 
Wi' a lassie whom slander itself durstna blame? 
But it's ilt an' ill nature, that's easy seen through- 
Wash our grumphie 's ye like, she will still be a 

sow! 
An', afore I forget, did ye hear ought the day 
Frae the callan that's diein' about Gowan Brae? 



TATTLE. 

He's just much about it. I heard by a beggar, 
A snod wee bit bodie, was passin' frae Biggar; 
I gied her some kail, and when scaitin' the beker, 
Prov'd weel worth herawmos — she is a bra' cracker 
D2 



5^ 

She tells me the Prince has got hame a' his lint, 
It's a gude muckle crap; but the doughter has tint — 
Or, at least, that her hopes of a man are, ding, dang, 
Deserting the service sin' Waldferms gaed wrang. 
She says there's a dryness atween them and Steady; 
That the laird has a bill been twice worried already; 
An' heard at Black&Add's, she thinks that's what they 

ca't, 
That their beef isna like to tak' weei v»d' the sa't* 
She show'd me a taylie, was gotten themi 
In exchange for some meal, it was said, for the sow; 
Mum for that — we ken a' that Blackfaulds is but 

bare. 
An' it's pity his mart should it's last year's fate shared 
iBut, believe me, I saw wi' my ain Icokin' e'en, 
Altho' washin', w4ieremony a mauk-mark had been! 
She had likev/ise a hint, but could never mak' mare 

o't, 
That the wife o' Glencraig had been false to the heir 

o't. 

MAULEFAME. 

It wad hkely be what Whisky Kattie w^as tellin'; 
A lang winded story 'bout Pat Enniskillen — 



53 

How he, like the rest who St. Patrick must plague. 
Had been offering freedom^s with Mrs. Glencraig: 
Like the mistress of Joseph she told her gudeman, ' 
And he^s hatchin' revenge for the poor Irishman. 
Now, 'twere pity if Pat should get ony foul play, 
Por I really suspect, she wad only haerCt sae! 
But I'm surely gane daft — see, it's far i' the night; 
Come the morn to your tea, we'll get a' things set 
right. 



D^ 



TEA-TABLE TALK. 
Maidefame and Tattle. ^-^Night the Second, 

MAULEFAME. 

Come awa, dearest Tattle, I'm glad you are tliere; 
The tea has been masket this half hour an' mair — 
I was really grown fear'd, when ye taigl'd sae lang. 
That the kitlen was dead, or else something gaeix 

wrang, 
An' it wad been a pity, as our folk are gaen, 
Had we miss'd the main chance, gettin' crackin' our 

lane — 
Shall I help your bit bread wi' some jelly or jam. 
Or d'ye ratlier prefer a sma' slice o' fry'd ham? 

TATTLE. 

Pm fond of the ham, but will just help mysel' — 
Never mind— tak' your tea— -for, believe me, its well 



55 

Worth the eating : youVe doubtless had eggs in 

the fry, 
And if s pity to eat them when eggs are so high — 
Tho' for that, ne'er a hen about our house will lay; 
Did ye hear what the cadger was gi'en the day? 

MAULEFAME. 

I have seird him a gross, for this some sax weeks 
hence. 
And have aye gotten for them just as mony pence; 
But they tell me that Brown is to tenpence come 

down; 
An' Jock An'erson fears he will lose in the tovrn. 
Was your tea to your taste? — 

TATTLE. 

Quite agreeable, nice. 
She will soon have a tocher who gets sic a price; 
But, tell me, Miss Maulefame, if me you can 

trust. 
Was it true that your chucky-meat bred a bit 

dust? 



56 



MAULEFAME. 

Aye indeed, Mrs. Tattle, a gaye stiffish squall ! 
But your linger on lip, and I'll tell you it all. 
You must know that the Roost is a' reckoned mine 

ain. 
Except haT-a^-dizen that gangs for the kain. 
And when countin' the week, be it better or worse, 
The egg money clinks in my ain privy purse; 
I of course keep it fu' — it may haud some twa score, 
And the creatures have commonly pickins galore. 
But the simmer comes on, — now the simmer is bare. 
An' there'*s no ane but me, for puir chucky to care. 
So I keepit a pock, and when corn was na scant, 
Slippet bye twa three goupin 'gainst absolute want— 
What was that among frien's ? neither hither nor 

whither ; 
An' ye ken that the gear it came a' wi' my midier. 
Ae unfortunate morn he fell in wi' the pose. 
When I true through the reek I got suppin' my 

brose — 
Trouth it was na worth while to gang raise sic a 

row. 
For a' that was o'' them — ^'twas hardly a bow ! 



57 

But 'en men tak' their passions, I've seen't o' them a', 
A woman may as weel gae speak to the wa**; 
However folks live, whiles, lang after ca'd rogue ; 
When tlie cow flings, we mauna aye part wi** the 

cog;— 
Ane wad like to ha'e sometliing to rov/ a sau' fit, 
So the matter was hush'd — I am toilin' for't yet; 
And if I can make something by feeding a hen, 
It's a matter how few chshmaciaverers ken. 



TATTLE. 

Na, my Aunty's a frugal weel spoken o' wife, 
An' it's ken'd she did sae a' the days o' her life. 
It was only yestreen, I fell in wi' a bike, 
When a makin' her bed, 'tween the strae and the 

tyke ; 
Now I never let on, for we a' need, ye ken. 
Bits a bawbees, at times, better hid frae the men; 
An' it's pity, when ane's a bit butter to spare. 
That anither's imprudence should let it tak' air. 
There is Tarn now, as gude, I as gude maist can 

be, 
Yet I've whiles hidden tychiles, it's needless to lie,- 



58 

When charity guides a piece cheese, or a prent, 
To a poor silly body, they're no aye for''t ken't, 
An', believe me, IVe seen them ©""er tastins look 

fain 
O** anither ane''s meat, wh^n they loatVd at their 

ain : 
Witness thig, Wa'n'sday last, when I took a piece 

beef. 
After Tarn gaed frae hame, o''er to Davie Moncri^ff ; 
He"'s a puir diein' chiel, if the Doctor say true, 
So ane likes to mak' welcome their visits thenu, 
For a hantla gang there, an*" folk hears something 

new— 

MAULEFAME. 

Did the doctor e'er hint fye the cause of his trouble P 
Alas, reputation, thou art but a bubble ; 
A bubble, which malice may grush at its pleasure. 
And visit on us, yea, even " measure for measure;' ' 
Then dearsake, ne'er speak o't ! I'd only a hint, ' 
That his trouble sprang a' frae a syphilis taint; 
And puir body the wife, she's nae better, I wat, 
O' her man gaun sae often to Embra of late.. 



59 



fAT*LE. 



Now I never heard that, tho' his frien"' Ever- 

growl 
Gaed to Lady-Loan? Shoutin wi' me, cheek for joul; 
Puir body, she ne'er had a waesomer night !— 
It was grievin' to see her sad pitiful pHght: 
She has pains in her leengies, a grip in her side, 
And her belly is swalPd til] its baith side and wide. 
Her head and her shouthers, her legs and her 

thighs. 
Are a"' complications of mortal disease, 
She can hardly live lang, ilk night waur than anither, 
P'ye "na think we sud try and get word to her 

brither ? 
Her dead-sark is made, an' the house is na bare, 
Yet it's eery to live wi' nane for her to care; 
Now there's pysteries yonder, a sick-nurse might 

pay, 

An' leave plenty to furnish her dredgie wi' whey; 
She has tykeins, an' linens, and blankets nae scant, 
Stuff an' serge, camlet-gouns, brats, an' coats o' 
darant, 



60 

She lias — But in short I near saw in my hfe 
Fu'*er kists; she has once been a vvight thrifty 

MAULEFAME. 

Wi' 8i needs must confess, that she's e'en fremt be- 
stead. 
But a woman's no sick aye, when she taks the bed. 
Evergroul, at her age, is baith supple an' yeaul— 
Her backbane wad weather a gaye sturdy squall : 
For this dizen o' years she's a' night been to die. 
Yet was linkin', gin morning, her cronies to see^ 
And there's never a Jenny wha rins i' the rufe, 
Kens better what's doin' the country throughout. 
Wi' the scart o' a prin I have seen them tak' seats—* 
Na ye needna glowr sae, for I ken a' her gaits; 
If the house it be fu' an' hersel' braid an' bra. 
She may thank the ten fingers o' him that's awa,— ^ 
She had ways o' her ain — ^you may guess if ye can-—? 
But ye never could guess, so I'll tell you her plan ; 
Her gudeman brought tlie stuif, an' her wheel was 

set up. 
But an hour, at best twa, brought some vile, filthy 

grup! 



61 

It was nonsense to spin wi' sic pains in her back. 
Let her nian ance away, she could hardly ev'n crack. 
But the basin was stanin' — the bot was na toom, 
An' her wob it was aye just gaun into the loom; 
" Slip me in twa three cuts, but let Will be frae 

hame-,'" 
Thus her back was aye clad — the expense was her 

wame! 
Woodsper Willie wrought sair, thought his wife did 

the same. 
An' when siller ran short the meal-bot was to blame. 
It was true, Mrs. Plump dealt eight pounds worth 

o' meal 
In a year, and took credit for't a' to her wheel: 
I thought naething o** that, for she had in hands. 
But whan folk gang to steal frae their ain empty 

stands, 
Wh^re ilk peck that's put in maun be siller put out; 
Jts as weel worth the woodie as ever — ^ 

TATTLE. 

Hoot toot! 
If thae be her gaits I am done wi' her phrase, 
Pvt I fe^r Eyergroul's no her lane nu-a-days. 



6s 

Did ye see Mrs. Fidget last day at the kirk, 
Cutin' capers wad frightened a twa year auld stirk; 
Wi' her Wellington boots, an' pluff 'd bonnet sae bra"; 
She has dealins wi' some ane gets puddin's for a\ 
An' afore her fligaries are a' gotten free, 
I could swear she's accounts that her man does na seel 
It's nae credit to her, when her man gangs sae mean. 
But, like most other dressejs, perhaps she's a frien** 
That is aye sending presents o' this an' o' that; 
Ne'er a ane sends to me but I ken aye for what; 
Ye wad laugh'd, had ye heard Tammy Thimble 

again, 
When describing her dress for the winter campaign, 
Wi' its hoods an' its flaps, and its in and out steeks, 
I leugh till the tears ran down over my cheeks — 
Slie's a managing wife, but maun aye wear the breeksr 

MAULEFAME. 

O I saw the bit body, and leugh mysel' blin', 
When the wife o' Jock Snail, an' her la'ship cam' in: 
Jenny Snail's gotten word o' some gear frae the south. 
And, sin' syne, she kens never how till had her mouth; 
She try'd it purs'd up like a hen gaun to lay, 
5ut her cheeks soon complain'd they were getti»' 
foul play; 



6S 

-She try'd it four square, and she ti^'d it quite roun , 
But an oval glanc'd best on her Waterloo goun; 
She try'd to look kirk-like, wi' grave solemn grace, 
But the siller was everly seen on her face, 
So true says the man, in his face reading book. 
That the passions of mind may be seen in the loiik. 
Then God sen' it never come in to the Clyde! 
By the word o\ she's pizzen'd already wi' pride. 
Ye wad likewise obsei-ve the parade an' the state, 
The ruffles, an" ribbons o' draggle-taiPd Kate! 
How yon pennyless, din, nool-knee'd thing gangs 

sae fine, 
Has been puzzleing clearer conceptions than mine? , 
Some have hinted, her master wears lightly his bands, 
And that, being ha'f mistress, she keeps gaye glib 

hands- 
Be that as it may, she sma*" credit can claim 
Frae sic wally-dye flirds, did she mind wha's at hame; 
Tho', indeed, we've sae mony frail sisters to blaze. 
That there's few to be found care about it twa straes! 
Like the most of our grand anti-nuptial cases, 
Bell Flirt's have been measured, dehberate embraces! 
It's playing deep game, but the stake was a man. 
And hunders on hunders have followed her plan; 



^4 

Should they carry their pointv, it atones for the fein, 
If they fail, " O, puir thing, the vile cliiers ta^en 

her in!'' 
Waur than coom them ye canna, wha lye among 

pats, 
If s but herding nine months wi' the houlets an' bats, 
And adds ane to the list of our misbegot brats. 

Tibby Tattle began a lang-winded narration, 
'Bout giaikin"' wi"* men ill the course of gestation; 
Andjustglanc'd from thence on the qualities mete 
That adorned the brows of her ain bairn-time sweet; 
When twa neighbours of hers called in by the way. 
The one was gaun hame, and the ither to stay: 
Our friends were thus parted. The reader may 

smell — 
Each told on the other, nor spar'd ev'n hersef! 
It's the way of the world: so, who wishes for peace, 
Must keep family concerns to his ain family geese. 

Having thus closed up my Tea jabbering storcj 
And display'd my extended colloquial lore; 
In despite of myself, foolish JufiCT/ arises. 
Creating, or seeing a cloud of surmises 



65 

Overshadow the whole, and distinctly to trace 
A Maulefame and Tattle in each httle place — 
To hear thises, and thats, place and person defined, 
what was only for general satire designed. 

It were needless for me to confess, or deny, 
" It's the author's averment, and not worth a fly," 
While, besides, he believes, he has little at stake; 
So, let them who apply it the consequence take. 
'' Be na gaw'd, dinna fling,'' is a proverb of mine^ 
And I only observe, ere the pen I resign. 
That if one individual, chancing to hear it, 
"Think the character hers, she is welcome to xvear if. 



E S 



THE SMIDDIE 



*«WV*»/».*A'»/*^/».*/WW*V*'V». 



Nae mercy, then, for aim or ste^el ; 
The brawnie, banie, ploughman chiel. 
Brings hard ov/erhip \vi' sturdy wheel 

The strong forehammet, 
Till block and studdy ring an' reel, 

Wi' dinsome clamour. Bn&N^ 



Thump, thumpj thump, goes the muckle fore hamj» 
mer, 

Sputter, spit fire, ifs a walding heat; 
Reel, pufF, blaw, heai* man and studdj y earner, 

And the red sparks phiz in the trinkhng sweet 

Snore, snore, snore, goes the braZen-nos^d bellows, 
Crackle, blaze, blaze, starts a fire on the hearth ; 

Toasting their shins sit a row of young fellows, 
Though rude in their bother, yet loud in thqjr 
mirth. 



67 

Cuddy Headi'igg is under the smitl/s castigatioii. 
And peals of loud laughter re-echos each stroke: 

It seems he''d got drunk on a certain occasion, 
And torn a bit hole in his little boy's frock. 

Poor Cuddy umijan'd by potations uncommon, 
And where is the champion malt hath not foiFd? 

Shrunk back from his wife, as he would from a foe- 
man. 
And Vulcan did add, that he " baw'd like a child." 

A wink from Hugh Trotter now strengthened 
Cuddy, 
Who boldly retorts in asperity's tone ; 
" Man, if s lang to the day e'er your weans be torn 
duddy, 
Or ever your wife give a mother's glad ^roan ! " 

The laugh was rebounded at Vulcan's expence. 
And Cuddy, in triumph, attacks Billy Whiffle ; 

The chiel had been courting a lass wi' some pence. 
And believ'd them his ain, baith the lass and her 
trifle. 

A Knight of the Thimble did enter the lists-. 



68 

With persuasion as sharp as his ain button needle; 
The twa took the bent, and were lost in the mists. 
That overhang Whiffle's bride, v/hen the tailor 
did wheedle! 

Nae doubt Bill felt sore, but a desperate plunge 
Made Cuddy's leg-fauld like an ill whitten stick: 

*' His cattle were crazy, and fro'd like a spunge,'' 
Was the only way left him to parry the kick. 

Trim Haliday's e"'en, like scor'd collops are red;. 

" He's either been drinkin"*, or out at the lasses.'* 
Hugh Trotter had ne'er better horse-flesh bestiid, 

Appealing to Clipfarms, if any surpasses. 

Clipfarms would allow her a gaye dainty cowte, 
Yet, wish'd from his heart that her neck had been 
broken, 
«' She's one of the thriftless, good meat-eating rowte, 
That our huge, overgrown, farm appointments 
betoken." 

Hugh frankly admitted her work was not great, 
Yet, thought that his master was bound to keep 
Susan ; 



69 

He hinted that luxury strengthened the State, 
By feeding the poor with the rich's profusion; 

Clipfarms might concede that the maxim was good,' 
Yet not to a farmmr admit application ; 

" Goj luxury, heap them with rood upon rood, 
And the plan will eventually ruin the nation ! " 

The one would exult in a flourishing stud, 

The other would joy in a neat little cabin, 
Where health, rosy health, might triumphantly 
bud— 
Their dispute ran high — let us list to their 
gabbin. 

CLIPFAPvMS, 

Well, but supposing what you gay, 
That rent counts short at Lady da}-, 
And that is granting more than true^ 
At least, in my imperfect view; 
I'll prove. Sir John, for various causes^ 
Had better let it in small pieces. 
Take, for example, one big lot. 
The tenant neither fool nor sot; 



70 

He rises early, every care 

^Employs to keep thii'igs fair and square, 

His graith a' hale and working sweet. 

His servants in subjection mete, 

Yet, still, one evil must arise ; 

For every point he has not eyes:— 

Experience proves, beyond a question, 

At times, they're loitering and wastin'; 

In general, among their feet, 

A cotter's bairns might lift their meat; 

And thus, unless they keep their station 

By much superior cultivation, 

The country must sustain a loss, 

By linking rood to rood so closs, 

TROTTER. 

As for superior cultivation, 
Tliafs clear, ev'n to a demonstration: 
Your small possessor wants for baith. 
The cattle, capital, and graith ; 
And all your arguments are lost 
In that economy you boast; 
Por granting what you say were true^ 
If s only but a partial view, 



71 

And will produce, in its best features^ 
No more than just a change of eaters. 
From him that grows, to him that buys. 
There all the mighty difference lies. 
And which of them, say if you please, 
Is hkely to economise. 
When pinching poverty has herket. 
That every snuff is in the market? 

CLIPFARMS^ 

That " need makes virtue" all admit, 
But that not solves the question yet. 
My cotter'*s bairns I mean to rear 
On quite unmarketable gear. 
The which your system would consign 
To litter cubs, or foster swine; 
Would waste on pampering up horse flesh, 
On greyhounds, pointers, spaniels — trash! 
Of this hereafter. But I pause, 
To ask, by what imperious laws 
You fix the lands productive state 
Proportional 'twixt small and great? 
I count each mouth the small sustains, 
The larger only mocks your pain^^ 



72 



TROTTER. 



The taunt recoils upon the liead 
Of him whose ignorance couJd breed, 
Foster, or lean, on such position; 
Is there a single ar'thmatician— 
A single boy of five years old 
Who knows his figures, need be told^ 
That weigh an acre's product well, 
And we, by it, may hundreds tell? 
We count the mouths that one sustains. 
The whole will soon reward our pains! 



CLIPFARMS. 



Prove equal cropping, and I grant 
A sclate may help to what you want; 
But ere the operations ended. 
Perhaps 111 move for it amended; 
Substract some little acts of thrift. 
Which you will drop, and I shall lift. 
Perchance, some trifling cypher blot. 
That represents a barren spot; 
Or, may be, pardon the allusion. 
Be forc'd, inju^ice, to shoot SusanI 



73 

Serious—you know that cultivation 
Must move by regular rotation ; 
But ours is such a broken soil, 
With rocks, wells, swamps, and mosses vile. 
That what were deem'd judicious cropping. 
On one half plot like fatness dropping, 
Oft leaves the other dead and bare. 
Unworthy of a farmer's care. 
What think you, then, since we have found, 
Such patches would his plans confound. 
If, just to help a starving trade. 
We should employ a tradespian's spade 
The swamp to drain, the rock to clear- 
Give him a lease for nineteen year, 
And try, if ere that lease be run, 
The worthless waste he has not won, 
And introduced in miniature, 
Kotation'^s best, and boldest feature? 

TROTTER. 

There's no occasion fqr the risk, 
Tradesmen to spoil, when trade is brisk ; 
For, if a spade must be employed. 
And wealth from barren w^stjes decpy'd, 
F 



74 

Will not a faimer's skill inspect. 

And common labourers direct 

The tool, with more unerring thrust, 

Than tradesmen will ? I'm sure they must ! 

CLIPFARMS. 

True ; but our frame is so constructed, 
And health through such small tubes conducted. 
That men of sedentary habits, 
Close pent in shops, like burrow'd rabbits, 
Must woo the smiling goddess fair. 
In shape of exercise and air; 
The only stimulate they've got 
To keep the humours all afloat— 
To keep the thickening blood in play. 
The spirits buoyant, brisk and gay. 
Hence, we the origin may trace. 
Of coits — \he putting-stone — the 7'ace ; 
But would not such odd moments fly. 
As fleet, as sweet, as healthful by, 
If he, in place of club and how^ 
Should arm himself with spade or hoe^ 
And sally forth the same to wield 
In cultivation of his field? 



75 

This, <* paltenng in a double sense;' 
Reclaims the land, reclaims the pence— 
Completes the system health imposes, 
And not one other moment loses. 
Now, let us view tliis little spot 
Appended to our larger lot : 
It's waste, miscrop'd, or else demands 
The culture of some extra hands; 
These must be paid. By whom ? or what? 
" The produce of their labour*"— >that 
Is Ions: ere it can clear the score ; 
And, though I hinted nought before, 
I find our farmer's contract rash. 
And really he is short of cash. 
The guineas do not always shine, 
Where skill and enterprize conjoin,—^ 
His bargain may be good for't all, 
But then, his capitars too small, 
And this, as felt in every station, 
Sickly s and cramps each operation; — 
Perhaps he's credit — ^borrows part, 
But interest eats his very hearti 
His atmosphere begins to thicken, 
Fear of the storm, the storm will quicken ; 
F 2 



P6r he, appearances to save, 

Must rant and riot like the lave ; 

Must sport his gun, his dog, dnd horse, 

Lest neighbours should pronounce him worse ! 

This passes off, perhaps, a while, 

But needy whispers burst and boil, 

Successive fields, or crops, are harm'd; 

His creditors become alarm'd; 

Attorney Quibble rears his bristles: 

Our farmer's a"" to pigs and whistles! 

Where now Sir John''s long swinging rent, 

His dashing tenant's cent, per cent.? 

A ruin d village, deslate, bare; 

A rentless farm — a thriftless heir! 

This proverb must recur with pain, 

He'd " better had sma' fish than nane." 

Should some yerde-hungry, chace the laird; 

Some Deacon Grubworm be prefer'd, 

Whose onl?/ quality we find, 

A purse, that scones against the ivind. 

The race is only sooner run, 

And sooner ends where weVe begun. 



77 



TROTTER. 

You colour high, but not from hte: 
Though sinking 'neath victorious strife. 
Our weakh, our means, are not so bad yet, 
Thank heav'n! but tenants may be had yet 
Substantial men, and skilful too: 
^' A rentless farm!"" strange, what a view! 
Language like that will never do. 
Besides, blind zeal your wit outruns; 
You seem, when introducing duns. 
To have forgot, that dun who will. 
The landlord claims hypothic still; 
And thus, if in or out of doors, 
Our Gountry'*s law his rent secures. 

CLIPFARMS. 

The very point I wish'd you at; 
His placks will ne'er turn pence by that; 
For, whereas the broken farmer gone 
Was debtor to the laird alone? 
Let him destrain — let him begin. 
The other creditors get in; 
Sweep from the girdle to the fold — 
The crop— the very dung is sold, 
F 3 



78 

Eacli field is scourged bare and blae. 
And ev'n the stubble borne away! 
Where is the man, with this in view. 
So mad as would the lease renew? 
Either the rent must be reduc'^d. 
Or similar scenes will be produced; 
Or else, compell'd to turn with pain. 
Back to the little tacks again. 
Ev'n there the evil is not ended-*— 
Their little huts would once have mended. 
But now, completely gone to ruins, 
A vast expence must build them new 'ns; 
And thus, in spite of all you say^ 
The landlord''s loser every way. 

TROTTER. 

An apt conclusion at the last, 
But I'll not kiss the rod so fast; 
The arguments which you have press'^d 
Sets not one single point at rest; 
And, though so volubly urg'd on. 
Will doubtless please yourself alone. 
You try"'d to cleave my client's hoof, 
But bold assertion is not proof. 



79 

And there, unless the scene we shift, 
Hangs all jomt Jhi'ming tradesman's thrift. 
Would not his cause look better now. 
If garnished with the why and how? 

CLIPFAEMS. 

The scene we'll shift in half a minute. 
Act Second — (we can thus begin it)-— 
A tradesman's plot, the tradesman in it; 
His implements of culture by^ — 
Ha! there's a thistle-head must fly; 
That docken has no business th^re, 
Potatoe plants call loud for air; 
Yon bunch of grass, that sitfast shakes. 
For see, his hoe in hand he takes- 
Yes, there's a failure, that I grant, 
A turnip must fiU up the want — 
The grub has ravaged some spots; 
Barley is driU'd among the oats: 
A sickly plant — a spot worn bai*e 
Finds instant manure, culture, care; 
Some drain's choak'd up — ^he's glad to hear it, 
The dunghill frets till he can clear it; 
Some drifts of cattle pass his door— - 
Their duug augments his gathering store! 



80 

Thus, what with sweepings, compost, art, 
Aided by his wheel-barrow-cart. 
Each patch drops fat, almost unbidden, 
When aided by a wally midden. 

Scene second, represents his cottage- 
Inside, a smokeing mess of pottage. 
With Avhey, or richer milk prepared, 
By which one third of meal is sparM; 
A mantling bowl of milk from Crummock 
At once invites and stays the stomach. 
Now, breakfast mark, and understand. 
That when a tradesman leases land 
He does not think so much of price; 
That's levy'd from the loom or vice, 
As how his comforts he may swell 
With milk and meal within himseV; 
I mention this, because I think 
Comfort, and thrift one cup may drink. 
Well then, his Bear land bends to both 
His barley-bannocks and his broth; 
His little garden yields a share 
Of common culinary ware. 
Some wholesome greens, a stock of lattice, 
Creses and onions, steAv'd potatoes. 



81 

'With bacoii ham, or slice of cheese; 
A dinner, this, might hix'ry please! 
The supper, spite of Cobbetf s sneer. 
Is food deservedly held dear; 
Potatoes skin'^d, and well beat up 
With milk and butter, while n cup 
Of Crummie's best doth wash them down; 
Who would not supper with our clown? 
Is any left, — now pray take heed, 
TheyVe bak\i up in to-morrow's bread, 
While skins, pot- scrapings, and the like, 
That would have gorg'd your dunghill sike, 
Are sent to feed his little pig. 
The which feeds him when it grows big; 
His lighter corns unfit for milling, 
Feed flocks of hens all fit for killings- 
Waste is not — nay you need not laugh; 
His mill dust thickens Crummie's caff; 
And what of husks the sieve retains. 
His wife is melting into soens*. 
Thus, what with soens, sallads, soups, 
Pig-styes, potatoes, and hen-coops. 
All must allow, unwarp'd with dottage, 
A RuMFOED cooJcs hi cvery cottage i 
* See jDr. Johnson's Tour in the Highlands. 



S'2 



TROTTER. 



All mighty well, uncontradicted, 
But if the libel was restricted 
To arbitrary mete and fit. 
Your arguments would founder yet. 
I do not mean to rack my brain 
In search of what I'll neVr attain ; 
Whether the agricultural day. 
Or manufacturing should sway; — 
Perhaps the two should hang together. 
Like sister twins, on one anither; 
Yet still, divided labour claims 
The sanction of illustrious names. 
And ail that I have heard from you, 
Will scarce compell a diiferent view. 
Belike the two, unite, may speed, 
But each must singly save its head, 
Or else your hugger-mugger jumble, 
Beneath its own dread weight will crumble, 
Though plagu'd vvith no prophetic skill, 
Your plan,' I'll bet a Hawick gill, 
Must gender apathy and sloth, 
^nd in the end will ruin both : 



83 

Besides, tlioiigli practicable found. 
The landlord rests on slippery ground, 
Whose rent, in times like this, depends 
Upon a tradesman's finger-ends; 
With stagnate prospects, dark as night. 
One half of them are beggar'd quite. 
And reason doubts much, if the other 
Can raise a rent or help their brother. 

CLIPFARMS 

That's harping on the very string 
Humanity would wish to ring : 
Look round the country, and mark well 
The haunts where wretchedness doth dwell- 
Say, if she hoards her withering kiss. 
For little villages like this? 
Contrast the city's roseless cheek, 
With his who roams yon mountains bleak; 
The sum of happiness, the lack of want 
Is ten to one with the wild plant; 
And, though the days are haply gone. 
Pure clanish love so proudly sjione, 
Yet, where the man, whose heart of steel, 
A tenant's happy smile can't feel? 



84^ 

Or, in a moral point of view, 

Who would not glory in it too ? 

Look round the village, and declare, 

What little tack we now could spare ; 

Or who would wish a change to see. 

Unless it' were from two to three ? 

Where is the patch 'mong them, whose fruits 

Hath not nursed up some noble shoots ? 

O how superior every way. 

In sage debate, or danger's day. 

To him whose springleas breath is drawn 

Amidst the fry of city spawn!— 

Observe them in life's morning hour. 

Skip, barefoot, light, from flower to flower; 

Joy dances, in a thousand shapes, 

Around the rosy laughing apes. 

While health, and strength, unwoo'd resorts 

To mingle with their infant sports ! 

The Butterfly's warm eager chace^ 
Round with that smiling cherub trace, 
Through wood and brake, o'er dale and heath 
Inhaling odours every breath ; 
The mountain daisy skirts his path. 
The Primrose blows his feet beneath. 



85 

The fox-glove glitters on yon brae, 
Wild with young hope he shoots away. 
Bounds o'er the brook, with sparkling eyes, 
And round his bonnet wreaths the prize! 
From craig to craig he nimbly skips, 
In search of bilberries and hips; 
The jutting points on which he hings; 
His steady steps, his agile sv/ings. 
Divests his character of fear. 
And forms a hardy mountaineer. 
If faint, beneath noon's scorching beam, 
He plunges in the tepid stream. 
And, while his glowing form he laves. 
Learns thus to stem more stubborn waves. 
If weariness he chance to feel 
Across his active limbs e'er steal, 
His foggy couch is ever by — 
The azure heav'ns his canopy. 
Where straggling mists, or darker haze^ 
Attracts on high his wondering gaze: 
Great Nature's Volume opens wide — 
The lark sprung from the daisy's side; 
Each fliting cloud, each gust of wind. 
The flood, the flower, sublimes his mind. 
And proves a God, all good, all kipd; 



86 

While Revelation lends her store, 
And brightens what was dark before! 

The mountain-bee's unceasing hum 
B^ats industry's unflaging drum; 
The stately muircock is his guide 
To manly independent pride; 
The cushet coos his head above, 
Prom her he learns — yes, learns to love! 
That soft delicious passion plays 
Around his heart, no flickering blaze. 
But pure as reason's lamp e'er shone— 
A lover once, he still loves on! 
No dull satiety, no stale debauch, 
No midnight revel lifts her latch: 
But stealing out iu twilight's shade, 
His swelling bosom meets the maid, 
Whose witching smile each doubt can solve, 
Inspire, refine, and nerve resolve. 

If forc'd to mix in busy life. 
Where fraud breeds selfishness and strife. 
His morning dreams may melt in air. 
And life appear less worthy care; 
Yet still his onward steady pace. 
Through all the windings man must trace, 



87 

Commands respect, commands esteem; 
And oft, like eve'^s soft setting beam, 
Some native swell, some lofty burst 
Of generous feeling, cottage nurs'd, 
Will sweep along the darkning vale, 
And kindle dying virtue's tale; 
Dispel the clouds of jarring pride, 
And brightens mankind's sunny side. 

Is such a man compelFd to roam 
Across the ocean for a home? 
To burst each knot that love hath knit, 
Assured of nought, save— he must flit! 
What can he do? Where turn liis head. 
With smiling hope to bid God speed? 
The lovely cottage gave him birth 
Now, nettle skirted, sinks in earth; 
His little patrimonial spot 
Is swallowed up in some large lot; 
His swellino- lunf::;s, y>^ont to inhale 
The rosy morning's fragrant gale, 
Can find no spring, no comfort share. 
In putrid streams of city air : 
Unequal to mechanic sleight, 
His spirits droop, his purse grows light, 
G 2 



And poor, pale, sickly, soon he'll sink 
A squalid wretch on misery's brink ! 
^Vho then can blame him? — who deride, 
Ev'n hopeless, though he cross the tide, 
And make a desperate push to find, 
Scenes more congenial to his mind? 

O Scotia, may'st thou never feel 
The want of his repelling steel ! 
But, should thy enemies of yore, 
Dare ever to profane thy shore, 
Or intrigue dark, in evil hour. 
Demand the thunder of thy powV ; 
Thy legislature may do well. 
To draw from out the lonely dell. 
Where, deep embosomed, lov'd, yet fear'd. 
The pillars of our strength are reared. 
Should blind cupidity still war, 
To drive that pillared strength afar. 
Then surely, surely, the affair 
Were worthy senatorial care ! 
To check depopulation's strides — 
To fix upon our mountain sides, 
A nursery of proud ascendence,— 
A hardy haunt for independence. 



89 

Whence, war's shrill clarion might comoiand, 

In danger's day, a sturdy band. 

Devoted, loyal, generous, brave, 

Sworn to die free, or find a grave ! 

By acts like these f elicit love; 

This would, indeed, a patriot prove. 

Hugh Trotter had screwed up his mouth to reply, 
Had extended his arm, and calPd fire to his eye ; 

But the fire in Ms pouch wrought a quicker explo- 
sion. 
And pluff, his coat tail blew abreed the house- 
riggin"*: 
The smiddie, struck dumb, was amaze, was com- 
motion. 
And gunputher-smeek, in each neuk of the 
biggin'. 

The blankness of feature, that sought explanation, 
When fright was found out, of scaith total their 
lot. 
Brought Hugh to confess, that he felt inclination, 
To skelp, at the maukens, some twa or three 
shot; 

G 3 



90 

"The treacherous horn had been priming his pocket; 

A spark in collision product the dread blast- 
Thank God it's no worse ! but the sraiddie was 
locket, 
With " Clipfarms has clipet— has wing'd you at 
last." 

Our sage Bard reporter his tablets con'd over. 
And muttered, sunk on his easy-chair cushion; 

«' When rustics like these can such intVest discover. 
The subject demands a more able discussion."" 



A bad Apology for a "worse Subject 



Weel might I kend that a' wasna right, 

For I dream'd o' red an' green a' the last night ! 

Twa cats fightin', 

An' twa pussies fightin', 

An' twa cheeties fightui', 
I waken'd in a fright. M.S. Soxe-. 



The vernal equinox rebounds 
The echoing cry of Renton''s hounds. 
See, to yon upland crowds repair, 
Tracing the timid flying hare ; 
While jocund wit, and mirth goes round:— 
" There Sawnie strides two hundred pound, 
'' His horse, that rider, has the show— 
" This carries well — that bears too low-— 
" Mark'd you the hare squat in yon furze: 
^^ Here Andrew comes by pith of spurs; 
" They've poach'd her up — ^this way she bends,' 
Hark! what a murderous gowl earth rends. 
Her beating heart 'twill burst in twain! 
Lef s draw a curtain o'er the scene; 
Be still my heart — recall that tear! 
It meets rude custom's barb'rous sneer 



9^ 

Turn tliou^ my soul, from scenes of blood. 
See nature in a milder mood: 
Hear, with a plaintive face and air, 
A tender-hearted girl declare, 
How she has lost a favourite cat. 
And ask her neighbour Spiders, that, 
To raise her grief-declining spirits, 
They'd string departed pussie's merits: 
Says she, " 'twill soothe to tranquil rest, 
'' Each murmuring passion in my breast, 
" And be a source of emulation 
" To all the kitten generation; 
'* Do, but this once, my whim accord, 
" And thanks and praise I will afford.'' 

Thus urg'd, posthumous fame to raise, 
Sawnie agreed to sing her praise. 
But stipulates first, if it should please. 
She must reward with cakes and cheese. 
This settled, he arranged his plan. 
And to it thus, pell-mell, began: 

EPITAPH. 

Freed from every mortal ail, 
Shrouded warm in honest fame, 

Underneath this bleaching fail, 
(^*****->g Q^^ ]^^^ found a hame. 



93 

To praise a Cat for cakes and cheese 
The other Spider did displease, 

And, though he knew 'twas botheration. 
He grounds on it this declamation. 

BAULDY. 

Poor, poor, Fordyce, sad is thy fate! 
How sunk from thy primeval state! 
Time was, when dignified reserve 
And independence brac'd each nerve, 
When free as air each action glow''d. 
And every word spontaneous iiow'd; 
If caprice, wit, or whim inspired, 
Or love of fun, or fame, thee fir^d. 
Thy song in ready numbers ran, 
And freedom's friend bespoke the man. 
But now — nay, ne'er attempt excuse. 
To prostitute thy starveling muse. 
And sing for bread in bites and bats, 
Auld hunger'd horse and scabbed cats. 
Degrades thy high-flown prudish stile 
Below the vilest of the vile! 

Fordyce was nettled thus to hear 
His shop-mate Bauldy's flippant ^neer. 



bf 



And in defence of what he span, 
Warmly indignant, thus began. 

SAWNIE. 

Truce, friend, with such cold blooded railing 
Point me the man who wants a failing — 
I grant, indeed, the game is low, 
But this you know, or ought to know, 
That all the parts of Nature's plan, 
Be't reptile, biped, cat, or man, 
Deserve, if well they act their part, 
The tribute of a tearful heart. 
Each creature hath its diiFerent sphere, 
And, tho' perfection dwells not here. 
Yet what comes nearest to that goal, 
Should be applauded by the whole. 
Now, lef s apply this reasoning here, 
In pussie's case, it's plainly clear. 
Her merits call for warmer tears 
Than would the death of half her peers— 

13AULDY. 

Stop there — I heard her mistress own, 
That down the stairs she would have stouii, 
And, in contempt of honours laws, 
Skim the milk-pail with dirty paws: 



95 

Clap stealing cream to your belief, 
And say, how do you like a thief? 

3AWNIE. 

Grant that the case, 'tis still the same, 
My first position it wont lame. 
A zealous Calvanist once said, 
That ** All was good that God had made:^ 
A neighbour, that was standing by, 
And who, perhaps, held Paine as high, 
Turn'd to him, and, jocular mood, 
Ask'd, ' If he thought Uiel was good?' 
The Calvanist replied: " Atweel, 
" I hold him to be a g-ood Deil r 
Thus puss, to make the story brief, 
Thus puss might be an excellent thief! 
But that's not what I meant to say. 
Her merits did not \ye that way; 
No — -she could rear her honest front 
''Midst hot suspicion, safe, unburnt: 
In vain did parritch cogs display 
Their reeking treasures to the day, 
If she but heard a mouse's rattle, 
Away she sprang, with furious ettle, 
And near indeed was mousie's hole, 
If death's dire nip she did not thole. 



90 

BAULDY. 

Her catch a mouse, an auld blin"* hunks^ 
And good for nought but breeding punks! 
Can you apply to her that hne, 
Which makes our Tabby^s memory shine— 
SJie never johCd in routs and squalls^ 
Or with neiglihours held cabals? 
No— -for IVe heard her lead a yell 
Unrivafd by the tones of hell, 
When every note fell misery blaws. 
Tell me, can this deserve applause? 

SAWNIE. 

Strip such impure, bombastic stuff. 
Of all its rude redundant juff. 
And that dire yell you paint so blue. 
Is nothing but a sexual mew 
Which nature gave, instead of graces. 
With this command, " Increase the species/' 
Yet — ^but I check the rising thought— 
From it be this conclusion brought: 
Strict modesty in female kind. 
Has been esteemed time out of mind. 

BAULDY. 

Well, swell with hyperbole your strain, 
And burnish bright each jetty stain? 



97 

Still to this truth you must accede, 

Your muse is but a hackneyed jade. 

For ,if a paltry bribe displays 

Its tainted phiz, you pledge your lays, 

and groveling low, wallo^ving in dust. 

Sneak to your harp— because you must; 

Besides, if cats must be your theme, 

(Which, by the way, I think a shame,) 

How comes it one could scarcely crawl 

Must be sent to her " airy hall," 

While that you boasted as your own, 

The pride and guardian of the towft. 

And was from Kate's proud lineage sprung, 

'^ Silent and dark"" remains unsung? 

1 fear, I fear, that dead to feeling. 

To squeeze Parnassus grapes you're speeling! 

SAWNIE. 

No, Sir, I glory there again, 
And every selfish aim disdain; 
In private griefs I stifle every cry. 
And only to myself in secret sigh : 
What cares the world though I have lost a cat, 
Scalded my mouth, or tore my Sunday's hat? 
Dare I presume to teaze it with my wail. 
Screw up my face, and tell a doleful tale ? 
H 



98 

No — ^but a friend sustains an equal blow, 
And asks my help to soothe her rankling woe; 
Can I refuse, thus impOTtun''d to chime. 
Blow up ray reed, and scour my rusty rhyme? 
What tho' the woi^ld be not inclined to hear? 
My strain is fitted but for friendship's ear: 
Priendship! to thee I dedicate my lays; 
Friendship! with thee I share the blame or praise; 
Jpriendship! accept this poor eifort to please. 
And still with friendship's feelings criticise! 

BAULDY. 

While that, and only that, remains your aim^ 
I blame you not to fan a tuneful flame; 
But— 

SAWNIE. 

Nay I appeal to you, by all the joys 
Our hearts have shared, as children, men, and boys, 
Did ever you the like from me require, 
And such a wish evaporate in air? 
If so, renounce me, my best name dispoil, 
And brand me for that thing you hold most vile. 

By this time twilight's mantle grey 
By halves pbscur'd the face of day, 



99 

Night slow ascends her ebon throne, 
Scatf ring the beetle's drowsy drone, 
While sweeping bats in eddies play. 
Exulting over coward day. 

Thus tyrant darkness sternly spake- 
" Be husVd each shuttle's noisy clackf 
The disputants reluctantly obey, 
Pledging discussion on a future day. 



dddress to the Author^s Birth Bay, 

ON BEACHING HIS TWENTY-FIRST YEAR. 



O, but I hate this dull delay, 
That cloudless sky, those molten seas! 

Sea Boy's Call. 



Obscuue, unknown, IVe crept along, 
Wadling amidst life's moatly throng 
Inglorious, neither right nor wrong, 

Since time began. 
And now, by dint of her whip-thong, 

I'm twenty-one! 

First pledge of love, a happy pair 
Bestowed on me their tender care. 
Exulting in the task, did share 

The pleasing part. 
Of fixing virtue's precepts fair, 

On my young heart. 

But Heaven, whose ways are in the deep. 
To mortal ken rugged and steep, 
Soon caus'd my father fall asleep. 

Lamented hour! 
And left, unconscious they should weep. 

An infant four. 



101 

But see my mother, bath'd in tears. 
Distracted with her rising fears, 
Anx'ously view our tender years 

With boding heart; 
While poverty's chill blast she hears 

Rustling apart 

Puwteih is but a barren soil, 

And bleak misfortune''s rigorous toil^ 

111 fitted for the generous boil 

Of youthful blood; 
The virtues gi'e a sickly smile. 

Through dirt and mud. 

Haply I've past my Hngering time. 
Unstained by deeper shades of crime: 
JBut, Oh! that clock's unceasing chime. 

The same dull round. 
Still peals the knell of w^asted prime. 

Complete wind bound: 

No favouring breeze to stir my sail. 
No patron's voice my course to hail. 
No leading-star, dim, strviggling, pale, 

To guide my bark; 
^ut plodding life's drear, misty vale. 

Aimless and dark. 
H 3 



102 

The Sun of Glory beams on high— 
Upwards I turn my wistful eye, 
Alas, the meteor gilded sky 

Grows dark as night. 
Nameless, obscure, what shadows fly 

Across my sight! 

Ah, it is hard to wear a chain — 
To feel ambition start and strain, 
Till visions wild enwrap the brain 

Of wealth and fame, 
Then champ the bit, and sink amain. 

Unheard our claim! 

Hath nature form'd, of baser stuff. 
The man yon lordlings lamp doth snuif ? 
Strip and change place — does lord-worn buff 

Mark more than brother? 
Then why, ah! why, one will we cuff, 

J And cheer the otheri 

True, there are hearts, whose lofty boil. 
Have climb'd proud honour's steep with toil—* 
Have bask'd in royal grandeur*'s smile. 

Then, with disgust, 
Turn''d on Retirement's lonely Isle 

Their hope and trust; 



108 

True, there are men the brae have speerd— 

Have try'd a cast with crazy eiid, 

Then croak'd from underneath that shield 

Hoarse declamation; 
To young, to old, adrift, in bield. 

Have dealt damation — 

Have cursed the levity of youth. 
The drunkard's everlasting drouth, 
The warm enthusiast straining truth 

To gild his cause; 
And even attacked, with open mouth. 

Patriots and laws! 

What pity that the reverend sage. 
Respected, hoary-headed age. 
Should with the cynic tribe engage 

In error's maze. 
And blot the Biographer's page. 

And noblest praise! 

But youth and dotage court extremes- 
Over and underate our claims. 
And, since its woven in our frames. 

The love of fame. 
Why check the hope that dazhng flames. 

Round deathless name? 



104 

Then O for some hope-cheering day! 
Some busy field— some proud display- 
Some Mentor sage to'point my way. 

To ply the test! 
Let firm resolve and energy, 

Perform the rest. 



Address to the Comet of 1811. 



Lo! from the dread immensity of space 

Keturniiig, with accelerated covirse, 

The rushing Comet to the sun descends ; 

And as he sinks below the shading earth, 

With awful train projected o'er the heavens. 

The guilty nations tremble. Thompsojt. 



Hail, portly stranger! blazing wonder, hail! 
Celestial visitant, whose mighty round. 

Waves o'er the world such ponderous length of tail. 
That half the glorious orbs of night seem drown''d. 

On thee, attention fixing every eye. 
With various feelings doth thy presence scan; 

Some cheerful trace thee through the tractless sky. 
While others dread thee as the foe of man. 

Hark how the din of superstition swells — 
Poor hagard imp! her phantom form'-.g brain, 

Strange depravation, fondly seeming, dwells 
Upon the ills that batten in thy train: 



106 

War, famine, pestilence, and earthquakes dire, 
Are conjur'd up and set in dread array; 

Or else, condemn d to set the globe on fire, 
Thy presence points to nature's final day! 

Not such the language godlike reason holds, 
When star-ey'd science lifts his tube to thee. 

The harmless purport of thy blaze unfolds, 
And proves thy splendour borrowed all to be; 

Points out thy path, and wonders by wha,t laws, 
PropeFd through space, thy lengthened orbit runs. 

Beyond the bound where fancy seems to pause, 
To other worlds, perhaps, and other suns: 

Then drawing forth proud computation"'s pen, 
Begins thy next appearance to unroll; 

Confirming thus, to philosophic ken. 
The various harmony of nature's whole. 

And is there, can there be in all thy round, 
O thou whose orb doth boundless ether rove, 

A single wretch, with light of science crown'd, 
Who pays thy Maker not respect and love? 

Is there on earth conceptions that can grasp 
Creation's grandeur, matter, mouldy and mind^ 



107 

Nor once their hands in adoration clasp? 
Forbid it every friend to human kind! 

But, lovely stranger! soon thy narrowing disk 
Must be withdrawn from our admiring gaze- 
Farewell! while I one fond conjecture risk. 
What you may find mankind in future days. 

At present, gloomy are the dread alarmsr 
That lurk below dark prejudice's robe. 

Outraged humanity is up in arms. 
And war, and bloodshed lords it o''er the globe: 

But may not Time, with liberal Virtue's aid, 
Lay prejudice and passion at their feet. 

And meek Humanity, that heaven-born maid. 
As Queen on earth, thy next appearance greet? 

Yes/ let us hope, that Reason^ s rising sway^ 
Completed in a few revolving years. 

Will bid the hostile nations of to-day. 
All move, harmonious, as yon circling spheres. 



THE KIRK SQUABBLE, 

A VISION. 



Surely dreams were ne'er indicted treason.— BuRNS, 



Dark was the Poet's dream by night. 
And flitting visions scar'd his sight; 
Low muttering thunders shook the ground. 
And clanging wings were heard around; 
When, full before his fearful gaze. 
Two sightly spirits of other days. 
Cut short their course in mid- way air. 
And sobVd aloud their growing care. 

The one, array'd in vestments strange. 
Gave Calvin'^s form to fancy'^s range— 
The other shewed, through shaggy locks, 
The rugged features of John Knox: 
But all array'd in wrathful guise, 
They bent their darkly scowling eyes 
Upon a merry banded quorum. 
Who push'd about the potent jorum. 
Till fanly sick of sober drinking — 
Quite tir'd of fame, of friends, and thinking, 



109 

Tliey started up, in wild uproar, 
And shook their fists upon the floor; 
" ViUian,*" and " Scoundrel!"*' sounded high; 
Chairs, Tables, Glasses, minghng fly-— 
The crash, like nature's passing bell, 
Struck decency''s departed knell; 
Her dying shriek was heard by J[ohn, 
Was heard, and answered with a groan. 

Our bard's compassion mov'd him here, 
And thus he claimed attention's ear: 
'' Spirit of Calvin, tell me why 
You bend on earth that tear-swoln eye? 
Say, stern John Knox, what means that frown. 
When Scotland's kirk is all your own?" 
" Mine own!" cried he, " Alas the day 
That such a word you ere should say — 
But see yon lads who long have led it, 
And say if such can yield me credit? 

'^ When I the papal power assail'd, 
The grossest evil that prevail'd. 
Was priestcraft selling, in retail, 
Indulgencies they'd bought wholesale, 
And, by a consequence, thus bred 
The wicked lives those Clergy led: , 
I 



110 

But, tracing still the rugged road^. , 
That Calvin had before me trod, 
I rous'd at last the Scottish nation. 
And wrought a happy reformation; 
While, that posterity might see. 
Some traces of the parent tree, 
I introduc''d some rigorous rules. 
To check tlie peccancy of fools. 
But these, alas! too sharp, too sage. 
Please not the palate of this age; 
And tho' your priests be learned and clever, 
They're nearly grown as bad as ever. 
Complaints run high, (all parties joining), 
That public morals are declining; 
But who, that sees yon guardian sample. 
Can better hope from their example.^ 

^' A few, indeed, 'tis freely granted. 
Are m demeanour fairly sainted. 
Who meekly sage, like Mecca'*s pigeon, 
Pourtray the semblance of religion 
With ritual pomp before the eye; 
But then to see their gowns thrown by; 
Good God! IVe often thought the while, 
Had spirits blood, that miae would boil; 



Ill 

To watch the solemn scene on Sunda}*; 
Hear death and fire denounced on Monday ; 
Then see them shift their pulpit faces, 
And hear them chuckling o^er their glasses, 
With such a loosen d flow of mirth- 
It staggers faith in pastoral worth; 
Ev'n charity can hardly wink, 
And w^ary justice needs must think. 
That half the sacred truths they teaeh 
Are held as such — but when they preach? 

*' It might be politic and wise, 
To dress state truths in holy guise, 
And arm the magisterial rod 
With terrors from the laws of God, 
As long as men, all rude, unletterM, 
Were with barbarious trammels fetter'd; 
While thus, by pious fraud reclaimed. 
The agents might be little blam'd. 
But now, w^hen learning's eagle flight. 
Hath bless'd mankind with better li^ht. 
And taught to prize, in every station, 
The blessings of subordination — 
When every Scot can w^rite, can read, 
And scan the merit of bis creed: 
IS 



When gospel treasures are displayed. 

And moral truth in smiles array'd, 

Hypocricy, in holy matters. 

Will find, I hope, but few abettor's. 

Now, in Religion''s meek attire. 

If men like these, who dare aspire 

To feed the flock and wear the ileeee^ — 

Whose every office breaths of peace. 

Be found to grie^^e their reverend mother ' 

By shameful fightings with each other; 

Or else, (a crime not surely less). 

Indulge in riotous excess. 

On dissipatiorfs giddy brink, 

What is the sober world to think?" 

Our " rough reformer'" made a pause, 
Aud Calvin thus took up the cause: 
*« What grieves me m-ost," he gravely said, 
"Is, that Hehgion, heav'nly maid! 
Will be brought in, and forcM to veil 
Their passions v^ith impetuous zeal; 
Fqr though the ground of their dispute 
liath nearly struck detraction mute^ 
A lady, by whose life and manners, 
Such disputants juight well be gainer^; 



113 

And though I am convinced that, 

No Cardinal e'er wore a hat. 

Did ever pass creation's portals 

As useful to his fellow mortals. 

As is the gentleman whose name, 

WeVe heai*d yon reverend 6pai'k\s defame: 

Yet still, it must be own'd that scandal 

Hath got a most convenient handle. 

And thus pretended zeal mR plaister 

Wounds, that had, else, got leave to fester."" 

With stem regard Knox ey'd his master— 
*' Pretended zeal! and leave tofeder! 
I fear,"" cried he, with strong emotions, 
*' You harbour too indulgent notions! 
When the ' last trumpet's blast' I blew 
Against that monsterous female crew; 
I was convinced, and am so still. 
That women are but weak of will. 
Yet let them once get out their horns. 
They goad our sides with constant thorns. 
Hence, crushing vice where'er it buded^ 
Along the leaning line I scuded, 
And loping off all mildewed ears, 
I triumph'd even in Mary's tearsS 
I S 



114 

This might procul^ the title < rough' 
Or ^ canting zealot,' and such stuff; 
But he, wlio hopes to plant new gracje, 
Among this stubborn, hardy race, 
Must br^ve detraction's every shock 
Unbending as his native oak, 
And with destruction's trumpet sound, 
Till trembhng edio wake around. 

*^ In truth, my friend, I 4'eally dread 
'That Church discipline's fairly dead. 
For, were there but a proper mound 
Erected holy things around; 
Did manly firmness guard the altar. 
And rigorous truth no longer faulter^ 
I trust that pious peculators. 
That runawa3^s, and fornicators. 
Would vanish like the early dew — ^" 

Here John cut short, for, from afarj 
Was dimly seen the morning-star— 
The hen-roost's herald shrilly crew—* 
Aloft in air the vision flew. 
The whizzing of tlieir upward flight, 
,Awak'd our bard to growing light- — 



116 

He rubb'd away sleep's mantling steam, 
And, as he haii'd the morning beam, 
Was glad to find the whole — a dream. 



CLERICAL CONSCIENCE. 



A TALE 



(In imitation ofCrahhe.) 



Ae swallow dees na mak' a simmer. Scotch Proverbs-. 

The reverend C**** wore bands, and looked as 
grave. 
As sober, and as little " passion'^s slave,^' 
As ever priest did trembling guilt confess; 
But ministers are men — nay, sometimes less! 
The virgin bloom that deck''d young Ellen's cheek 
Had vanished all, save one poor hectic streak. 
Which only showed more glaringly the case; 
Yes, all her form gave proof of C****''s embrace.'^ 

What could be done? His flock might fear to trust 
Their souls with one had prov'd himself frail dust; 
IMore dreadful still, if dead his holy cure, 
The stipend also dies in that dread hour: 
One only way, " Dear brother, take my place, 
And draw these purse-strings over the disgrace— f 



117 

O matchless love! degraded nature smird, 

When layman C**** stood bound for EUen's child. 

The lapse of time, this Christian pillar found. 
With holy semblance, tread his pious round; 
At birth or bridal, wear a grace-proud face. 
And, when a child of love came to the place, 
None wagged their tongue against the hapless pair, 
"More long, more loud, more senselessly severe. 

Successful sin, beneath religion's cloak. 
Now steePd a heart, which was, at best, of rock; 
Mean sorded habits grow upon the sou]. 
Eating all sense, till Ellen's yearly dole. 
Less by degrees, had vanished in whole. 
The calls of nature are not staunched on air, 
A chubby boy needs more substantial fare; 
Want lends rude eloquence a pathos wild, 
^^ Where go, but to the father of my child?"" 

Al^s! May's breeze might sooner Snowden wear; 
With brazen front the father could appear— 
His crime's proscribed — the church wont turn him 

out; 
^f And Where's your proof? 'Tis plain, beyond a 

. doubt, . 



lis 

The sacred robe, worn by each son of grace, 
Will turn your tale back on the teller's face. 
While angry ruin, red, might round you blaze. 
Durst you a famcH clamosa to raise>^ 

* Tathers have Jlirvty heartsf she cried, and Ec^t 
To search her trunk, for guilty proofs, the view 
Of which, 'tis said, had rent his robe in twain; 
But, cunning C****, the search was all in vain. 
The lock was pick'd, her letters wholly fled— 
Gods! can thy thunders slumber o'er the deed! 
EUen had yet one pull; a straggling few 
Had been mislaid, nor met tlie spoiler's view, 
These careful kept, were read by legal eyes. 
And C****'s swoU'n purse pronounced a legal pi;ize^: 
Still must the wretch escape, oft our blind frame 
Writes erring mercy on the rolls of shame; 
Her council's kindness took monition's form. 
And pointed out the darkly rolling storm— 
Th' affair was husli'd! what cannot guineas do»? 
His flock hoodwink'd! will conscience be so to? 
Or will, or is, with hypocritic nod, 
That man permit to mock the Throne of God, 
And lead devotion when a people pray? 
iStrange things are done on eartli! 



Address io Eums^ Grave, I8O7. 



But who like Bums could pour the song, 
And tell the tale that ne'er seems long? Bell. 



Be still, my heart! be still and calmly view 
With stedfast eye, this sacred, hallowed spot! 

Ye flood-gates stop, ah! stop the pearly dew. 
Distilling quick the cheek of mirth to blot. 

Ah no, 'tis vain, my feelings burst their way. 
And sighs restrain'*d but makes the heart more sad; 

Then, let's indulge the melancholy lay. 
And pour my heart-notes o'er the low-laid Bard. 

Poor hapless Burns! " ill-fated, ill-star'd youth!* 
How soon he ran his splendid short career, 

Like winter's sun, far in the watery south, 
A moment bright, the next to disappear! 

Now cold the heart, whose philanthropic glow 
t)istended wide, kneAV no restraining bound; 

But taught the rose of social sweets to blow. 
From Isle to Isle, old Ocean's bed around. 



ISO 

Now sunk the genius, eagle-ey'd and bold, 
Which sightless soar'd above the pride of schook— - 

Replete with nature^s fire, did wide unfold 
Fair virtue's precepts — scourged oppression''s tools; 

Depicted nature — in his " wood notes wild,'* 
He caught her li\ing on her noblest plan; 

She, in revenge, did form him sorrow's child, 
A happy poet, but a hapless man! 

Peace to his ashes, ah! too soon disjoined! 
But peace, my heart! you know not heav'n's dark 

way; 
While CailcCs wreath is round his brow entwin'd^ 

With hopeful fervour rather let us pray, 

That from his ashes. Phoenix like, may spring, 
Inspir'd by Fame's invigorating hand, 

Some youngling bard, who boldly in the ring. 
Against prevailing rotteness may stand: 

May stem the tide of luxui-y swolfn high» 
And open wide benevolence every sluice — 

May soothe the sorrows of the tear-worn eye^ 
And teach the ignorant their end and use. 

?^ * * * f * ^ 



A MotJier^s Address to the Annual Return 
of the Day on which her Infant Daughter 
died. 

That child came, like a ray from heaven, 
Which shines and disappears. Ho3iE. 



November's blast shoots through the sky. 
And howls the rugged trees among, 

While flakes of snow in eddies fly, 
And sweep a whitning tr^n along. 

The feathered songsters seek the copse. 
Or 'mong yon furze a shelter find; 

And from the field the labouring ox 
Stalks homeward, with the dripping hind; 

All nature groans beneath the blast- 
Loud and more loud, I hear it rave; 

Such strong conyulsions cannot last, 
I calmly think on Mary's grave! 

Ah me! how dark, gloomy, and sad. 
The prospects are that wont to cheer; 
K 



My airy dreams are ever fled. 
Borne, borne from me on Mary's, bierf 

Deceitful hope! how did I build 
Upon thy glittering rainbow base? 

How did I fondle o'er my child. 
And dwell upon each opening grace?- 

How did I hope to see the rose, 
Just budded on thy cheek so fair, 

A "beauteous fuil-blo\\Ti form disclose, 
Unstain'd by vice, uudim'd by care? 

How did thy fond endearments twin'd 
Around my heart, her powers engage. 

In painting thee, by heaven desigu'dj 
The'^olace of my drooping agef 

In fancy^s eye, I saw thee tend 
My couch of sickness, pain, or grief, 

I heard thy prayers to heaven ascend> 
And for thy mother beg relief; 

I saw thee watch the languid eye- 
Give up to me thy wonted rest^ 



128 

And oft suppress the Btriiggling sig!i 
That heavVl within thy grief torn breast; 

I liop'd— but, ah, thatliope is fled! 
When hfe's vain struggles all v/ere pjist, 

Upon thy breast to lay jny head, 
iVnd in thy arms breathe out my last. 

Vain are the hopes of feeble man! 
Time's restless tide .sweeps fast away; 

Himself, and all his airy plans, 
Are but the " Children of a day.'' 

But why indulge this waste of grief? 
Why tear a heart already torn? 

Is there no balm ean bring relief, 
Or blunt my bosom-rankling thorn? 

Bleak earth, 'tis true, this annual day, 
One sigh, one murmur, cannot save — 

Her vernal sweets are fled away — 
Not even a flow er to deck her grave; 

But trace her to her native skies. 
Her earthly form to heavenly yields; 

The flowers our barren earth denies. 
Shell gather in Elysian fields; 



1S4 

There twine that wreath she nopes to deck 
"Her father^s and her mother''s brows^ 

And there a lovely bower erect. 
Set round with ever verdant boughs^ 

Where friendship, love, and lasting Joy^ 
Shall find secured their highest zest, 

And clianting praise, the sweet employ, 
Of them, were erst with grief opprest; 

'Midst purling streams of fresh delight^ 
And fountains lasting life that yield, 

EnroVd in never fading light — 
Our happiness confirmed and seafd! 

With hopes like these, cheer up my mind! 
Soon, weary worn, this earthly load 

Will be to mother-dust resigned, 
"My soul her flight wing to our God. 



O/i the Death of a Friend. 



Friendship, mysterious cement of the soui, 
Sweetner of life, and sodder of society, 
I owe thee much. ,BlaiBo 



Awake, my muse, thy votive straia! 
'Strike the lyre, soft, sad, and low. 

Till breeze borne echo sweep the plain. 
Where Clyde's pure winding waters flow. 

And far Benvorleigh swell again, 
Tlie measure of thy Tieart-felt woe! 

Alas! the invocation is in vain — 

No fairy minstrel the petition hears; 
Silent the " harp of Cona"" must remain, 

The strings are steeped with affection's tears; 

The tears of friendship, that long, long will flow, 
A tribute sad to parted worth laid low. 

Yet, though no inspiration wakes my lay, 
Save that which struggles through a dropping tear, 

Still shall my th^me have one triumphant day, 
If read by half who hold his memory dear: 

^or ne'er did death's cold icy touches freeze 

A heart that held more wiMiiig povfers to please, 
K ^ 



m 

To him the suppliant never turned in vain, 
When he the means possessed could bring relief; 

Nor e'er, to him, did sufferer complain, 
And not confess that kindness sooth'd his grief; 

For meek benevolence, by virtue shed. 

With radiant glory play'd around his head! 

Though his the fate — a fate akin to mine, 
In life's sequestered fameless walk to move, 

Yet private worth may there as purelys hine, 
As in the palace, or the rich alcove. 

The lowly daisy, by the tulip's side. 

Hath tints unmatch'd by Flora's gaudiest pride: 

Thus he, amidst his unaspiring peers. 
The daisy of their fond affections rose. 

And still the tie grew with those fleeting years, 
Did all his rare, his riper powers disclose: 

For never genius nurs'd a kinder heart. 

Or friendship sigh'd more bitterly to parti 

How oft, when twilight spread her mantle grey. 
And sober evening lent refreshing shade, 

Have we ascended yonder flowery brae. 
And stretch'd at ease upon our foggy bed, 

Enjoy'd the luxury of kindred thought, 

Communion pure, and pleasure evei-y draught? 



ir/ 

Or, wlien the wiiiter"*s tempest-spreading scowl 
Had placed a party round his cheerful fire, 

We haird him still the animating soul. 
Did every gambol, every sport inspire- 
Richly facetious-i— innocently gay. 
His galless jests like meteor beams did play — 

Like meteor beams that flit athwart the sky, 
We point their place, and, lo! the gleam is gone: 

Thus, equal transient, earth's enjoyments fly. 
Remembrance sad remains with me alone — 

Remembrance sad, that conjures up the ghost 

Of joys departed, ah! for ever lost! 

Adieu, dear dim-seen spirit of the sky— « 
If virtue here must rise to bless above. 

Thy airy form is surely hovering nigh. 
The guardian angel of its former love! 

Delightful h©pe! Probation's duties o'er, 

We join our friends, " we meet to part no more. 



071 a Brotlm^'s Death, 



•V'VVW».-\--»-».-V»-«.V».'V-W%'».-%. 

A pang to secret sorrow dear, 
A sigh, an imavailing tear. Gray. 



At lengtli the grisly tyrant has prevailed;, 
'The king of terrors all his work hath done! 

Cold in the coffin his remains are nail'd, 
And " Dust to dust" unalterably must run. 

His better part — that part which mocks death's 
dart, 
Has wing'd to other worlds its mystic flight; 

And all the secret actions of the heart. 
Stand full discWd amidst a blaze of light. 

But Hope, which cheers the death-bed of the just. 
Paints Mercy smiling on each Ethiop stain — 

Promise confirmed, let us that mercy trust. 
And hail his death a sweet release from pain. 

*' Alas, "'tis hard/' rebellious nature sighs. 
* Be hush'd, be hush VI, his sufferings were severe;' 

*' Ah true, too true!*" soft sympathy replies, 
''• But patient helplessness made him more dear."' 



1^9 

No more, indeed, the eye of pity swells, 
No more his moan of agony we hear; 

But, ah! no more he of our kindness tells, 
With smile bright glittering in aifection^s tear. 

No more we see his labouring bosom hea^■e— 
Panting for breath the lungs want room to play; 

No more to hear his ruttling cough we grieve. 
Chasing lifers slender comforts far away; 

No more his poor emaciated frame, 
SwolFn legs, and sunken eyeballs meet the sight; 

Nor burning hectic lights her deadly iiame; 
All, all is veiPd in death's dark dreamless night. 

But, can remembrance quit the busy seene^ 
When youth, and health, and frolic mirth were his? 

Can a fond mother her sad tears restrain. 
When fancy frolics between was and is? 

Can she, when counting o'er her props of age. 
The wintry solace of declining years, 

Fail to lament, when push'd from off the stage. 
Her goodliest hope — her stoutest prop she sees? 

Will not a sister miss him from her side, 
Wlicn female weakness looks protectmg care; 



130 

When timid steps need countenance or guide. 
Her stay, her trust — her brother is not there? 

When village sports, at twilight dimly seen, • 
\Bids old and young to witness or to share. 

The victor's shout, exultive on the green, 
Proclaims aloud, our brother is not there. 

When after supper, round the winter fire, 
Our social circle draws in converse sweet, 

TVhen heart meets heart, co-mingling each d^sire^ 
And lazy time sweeps past on pinions Heet-— 

The sigh, half crushVl— a tear brush'd quickly by; 
A conscious glance, met on his empty chair, 

Will oft repeat, what none him knew deny, 
A ^varmer heart -will never more sit there. 

For me, when I forget our last embtace— - 
The blessing struggling on his parting breath — - 

The love-lit radiance playYl upon his face, 
Unblench'd and manly in the grasp of death. 

May friendship stab me v/ith deceit's dark spear, 
May love refuse the soul-wrap'd boon I crave! 

And may this bosom^ blank, unfriended, drear. 
Sink early to an unregretted grave! 



Inscription for a Mommient to the Memory 
of Sir John Moore,^ 



We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
"The sods with our bayonets turning, 

By the struggling moon-beam*s misty light. 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
From the field of his fame fresh and gory: 

We carv'd not a line, we rais'd not a stone, 
But we left him alone with his glory. 

Burial of Sir John MoORf:. 



Moore, to whose memory this pile is rear*'d, 
Stood fair, stood high upon the rolls of fame^ 

In private lov'd, in public life rever*'d. 
The man, the hero, had an equal claim* 

Appointed to a hazardous command, 

With wisdom^s law, 

Proud valour saw, 
Him guide his little but intrepid band,i 
Thro' toils, thro' dangers, in a hostile land. 

* Inraiediately after the fall of our gallant countryman, the inha- 
bitants of Glasgow, and its vicinity, set on foot a Subscription for^ 
§rectuig a Monument to bis Memory, between 3 and £4,000 were 
subscribed for. How the design came to be relinquished, 1 do not 
recollect to have seen satisfaecorily explained. Tiiis was wrote as the 
faint o\itiine of an Inscription. 



132 

In vain the legions of o''erwhelming Gaul 
Hung on his rear, exulting all. 
That Britain^s lion now must fall! 
When dangers prest. 
By all confest, 
New energies inspir''d his breast; 
And calm, collected, ""midst the mighty strife. 
He roird the tide refluent with his life! 
Corunna heard him breathe his latest sigh. 
For Spain, a pattern how to live — and die! 

Proud of her nursUng, Glasgow claims her right. 
The grateful, soothing, melancholy joy. 

Of shrouding merit in a robe of light. 
And whispering fame, that Moore was born her hoy. 



THE SPAIL HORSE. 



AN ELEGY. 



The poor beetle that we tread upon. 
In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great, 
As when a giant dies. Shakespeare. 



Go, trusty servant, from thy birth, 
And mingle with thy mother earth; 
Death's loos'd at last thy saddle-gii'th— 

The spail horse is dead. 

No more thy slender pigmy form. 
Shall bend beneath the midnight storm; 
Low iaid-^— poor feast for glutton worm! 

The spail horse is dead. 

Ye ponies round the country mourn; 
Lament lest it should be your turn. 
To drie the ills that he hath borne, 

The spail horse that's dead. 

Tanners and souters may rejoice. 
And shape their shoon wi' little noise— 
L 



134 

Thj half-tann'd hide has seen sic ploys, 

Poor spail horsie dead! 

"^Twere vain dissembhng o'er the grave: 
Through hfe thou wert the constant slave 
Of all who durst thy help to crave, 

Ere thou, spail horse was dead> 

C— b — n long had thee at his beck, 
W — nh — 1 thy withers rode to wreck,. 

And W ^n oft hung by the neck 

Of him the horse that's dead. 

Thy mistress, snug on thee enthroned. 
The e'en frae monie a dub has scon-d. 

And erst, beneath M M he groan'd! 

The spail horse that's dead. 

j&v'n 'prentice callens gaun to see 
The lasses, have made free wi' thee; 
And oft behind some bieldless tree, 

They ty'd my horse that's dea d. 

But, OgIi! abooR them a' let's mourn 
That waefu' day, when Cunnenburn 
Rouad Gallashiels did tak' a turn 

Wi' him, the horse that's dead. 



135 

From that time forth, a constant sneeze, 
A limp, a croup, or breathless wheeze, 
Deny'd poor Donald health or ease. 

Till now, the horse is deacL 

O Davie L— ch, thou nionster hour-! 
Whom all who love horse flesh abhor, 
111 never ape thy conduct more. 

Since Donald dear is deal!. 

The tear that glistens on my cheek, 
Ivlust forcefally my feelings speak; 
For him, I'll aibiins greet a week. 

The spail horse is dead! 

The raven's hoarse that croak's his knell, 
The breeze is chill that rocks the bell. 
Akin to both, the rhymes that tell 

The ,spail horge is dead. 



L 2 



Supposed by a You?ig hady on leaving Iwi- 
Native for America, 



Bear is that ished to which his soul conforms, 
Aiicl dear that hill which lifts him to the storms. 

Goldsmith. 



What means that sigh's involuntary swell? 
Why drops that solitary trickling tear? 

I feel it solv\l by that sad word, farewell. 
To you, my friends, and youth's companions dear. 

Parents, adieu! You think the prospect drear^ 
But, brothers, sisters, why so sad at heart? 

Does not fond hope point out some other year, 
In musty time"'s dark mist-envelop''d chart, 
IVaen v/e shall meet more dear, perhaps, not theiice 
to part^ 

^Tis not a wandering exile that I roam, 
Banish'd by crime from Scotia's favoured Isle, 

Compel'd to seek a transitory home 
Wherever fate will give me leave to toil : 

Prom such a prospect nature would recoil, 
And palid fear might chill more ardent blood, 



137 

"But better hopes await a brother's smile. 
Portending fortune and fair friendship's bud, 
By Skuylkill or the Defware's massive rolling flood 

Yet oft, at eve, when the broad setting sun 
Shakes cooling dew-drops from his parting beams. 

Plays sportive on the shadowing umbrage dun^^ 
Or tints mth gold the gently murmering streams, 

111 wander forth, indulging fancy's dreams, 
Swift on her airy wings I'll take my way, 

To where each tree on recollection teems 
Account of some young pleasurable day, 
When infant loves, friends, books, held each alter- 
nate sway. 

Oft will I figure the Autumnal fire, 
That cheerful scene of mirth and frolic glee, 

His reapei' train, circling my hoary sire, 
Who counts them round, and thinks, perhaps, on me* 

Then brushing sorrow from his manly e'e. 
Pie joins their sports, promotes, and marks the while. 

The galless jest, the love glance rolling free. 
The ready burst of pleasure's pi ay full smile. 
And all the oblivious draught that gult^ their weary 
toil 



138 

At harvest-home, when winter is brouolit in * 
And sprightly youth leaps joyous from the cart, 

111 think how oft IVe swelFd the festive din 
"IVith joys loud laugh directly from the heart: 

Or when the village revels, with more art. 
Had gathered form mirth's merits to enhanse, 

111 think how oft I play'd a sprightly part. 
And lightly led the mazy Sweeping dance, 
While pleasure's rosy smile did harmonize each 
glance. 

Oft will I paint yon mouldering moss-clad tower. 
At eve, grey shadowing the silver moon; 

'I'he dear retreat of love*'s enraptured hour 
From prying eyes, or summer's sultry noon: 

While, whether fed by fortune's bitter spoon. 
Or quaffing nector by her bounteous side, 

I'll eager beg of lieav'n this constant boon, 
'That He, whose arm iloth various nature guide, 
Would deign, with guardian hand^ to hless tlw Yah 
of Clyde, 

^ Leading in the kst cart of corn is called, " Bringing in v/inter," 
and the person driving the cart frequesatly saluted with a paleful o£ 
'Water thrown about his ears. I have been at a loss to discover the 
iTiystical signification of this, unless it v/ere to intimate, that, by re- 
moving the last fruits of the field, the great bond of protection from 
-the God of Seasons is removed, and man left exposed to the rigourst 
of relentless winter. 



LAW INTELLIGENC^E. 
CPvIB v. coor-EE. 

A burlesque on some anonymous Poems^ ^mrily 
imputed to the Author. 



I must and will have justice, 
Or, by the gods! I'll lay asscene of blood 
Will make this dwelling horrible to nature. Otway. 



Crib versus Coopua was an action, 
Brought for a scandalous transaction; 
Where papers of a libelous nature. 
Containing mean attempts at satire, 
In which gross malice bore th' ascendant, 
Were wrote and publish'*d by defendant. 
The cause was mov'd at Renton's bar. 
But he was busy learning war; 
So now it came, by advocation, 
Before a court of magistration, 
Indeed, as high as it would caiTy, 
Lord Provost and a special jury. 
Bright Thaha, comic maid was there. 
The rights of poesy to declare; 
And Scotia's Genious of the Clyde 
Did o'er th' aerial court preside. 



140 

Th' indictment read, the jurors seated. 
Glib Warplaw for the plaintiff stated:- — 
^' That what had raisVl this wild uproar, 
Was found upon Hugh Cooper's door; 
A libel gross, whose leading feature. 
Did tend to vilify the nature, . 
The name, the character, and cause. 
Of him vv^hose advocate he was — 
That it his clients mind had fretted,, . 
His reasoning powers had underrated—- 
Upon his friends thrown side reflections— 
Presumed to teaze him with directions — 
Rediculing his honest thrift. 
And scattering obloquy like drift; 
Depicting him, and spouse, as jobbers. 
Mean, dirty, sneaking, upstart robbers; 
And all for what? Pray point the harm?— 
Because, forsooth! he'd leasYl a farm, 

" That this, like some bewitching glamour, 
Had rais'd a hideous poplar clamour, 
V/hereby the feelings of his wife, 
Dearer to him than parting life. 
Were v/ounded deep, her health impaired; 
And as the world did Hugh regard 



141 

With strong suspicion's piercing eye, 
He hop'd the court would duly weigh 
The vast importance of the crime, 
^nd signal vengeance take in time." 

Defendant own'd the thing was faulty, 
Yea, greatly so, but pled " Not Guilty;"" 
And having witnesses in waiting, 
Tliey prov''d it was not his hand-writing; 
When Thalia, bent upon a splore^ 
Just hinted, it might be the door, 
' At least,' quoth she, ' I mean no trick, 
It's been some boor with skull as thick!' 
Conviction flash'd with this suggestion. 
And having solemn search VI the question. 
The trembling culprit stood expos'd— • 
The evidence was quickly clos'd; 
His Lordship summed up the same, 
Finding the door was most to blame, 
And having ably charged the jury^ 
They found this verdict in a hurry, 
A levehng stroke for human reason — 
Namely, the door was guhlty, treason! 
The court gave sentence on the spot: 
Viz. " ThaDoor was to be shot!'' 



U2 

Thalia, laughing, next prepared 
The limits of her realm to guard, 
Lest witling wasps, by patching tatters, 
Should bring a stigma upon letters; 
And sister Clutha gave instructions 
To criticise the door's productions. 



The first, addressed to Crib the plaintiff, 

Came tripping forward, pert and active, 

Embolden*'d by the kind reception 

It had from men of each description. 

And confident its natal spot 

Had found it fairly p'-oofd shot. 

But, Vv'hen the first four lines were heard, 

Heav'ns! how the spiritual junta starYl-— 

The clerk read on-— the whole attempt 

Was mark"'d with silent sad contempt; 

Till Clutha, blushing deep, exclaini'd, 

" I vow,"" says she, '^ I'm quite asliam'd 

That such a puerile, childish matter. 

In my dominions breeds a clatter, 

Or such a hagattile should be 

Ought other Xh.MiJclo-de-seP'' 

While Thaha swore by a'' aboon, 

''Twas very error in the moon, 
\ 



143 

Had rais'd applause so out of season; 
For, faith, 'twas neither rhyme nor reason! 

Struck with the fate its friend had shar'd, 
A dismal elegy appeared. 
Purporting to be the lament 
Crib's father to his son had sent; 
But so benumb'd about the hams, 
So shook by feverish fears and qualms, 
Dismembered, mutilate, and torn^ 
It rather pity mov'd than scorn. 

The next, an answer to the whole. 
Was drag'd from out the door's key-hole, 
Dress'd up with many a dashing oath. 
The very scummings of hell-broth; 
So rough, so aimlessly severe, 
Ev'n S n disdained ro hear! 

The wretch was spurn'd with decent pride, 
And Scotia's Genius of the Clyde, 
Seeing the audience look amaze, 
Wav'd graceful silence— rose, and says: 

" Pray, frienda, why look you so aghast? 
Why brood so heavy o'er what's past? 



144 

'Don't take it ill though sp'ritual notions 
Run counter to earth-born emotions. 
All men acknowledge passions sway, 
And prejudice leads oft astray; 
'Tis ours to cleanse the muddy pool. 
And say what reason would, when cooL 

" Since first dear Clydesdale own'*d my sway. 
It's been my pleasure, night and day. 
With genial smiles to cheer the birth. 
And rear the stems of budding worth; 
But where dull impudence claims merit 
'Tis mercij to chastise with spirit. 

'* For you, on whom this vagrant muse 
Hath rain'd such torrents of abuse. 
The safest course that you can steer^ 
I^ never to let on you hear. 
An4 o'er my district wide I'll show it, 
Th^t better be the theme than poet."" 



A VALENTINE 

JP^r Miss 6'**** G^***^***^-, 071 the eve of' her 
Marriage. 

(wrote fou a friend.) 



" The rose is red, the violet's blue, 
The lilly's sweet, love, so are you— 
*Of such sweet flowers a vvreath I'll twine, 
And deck with them my Valentine." 



On Saint Valentine's eve, in " the days of laiig- 

syne," 
The lover his mistress a posy did twine; 
His memory flew back to the leaf-lined bowVs, 
When the green pride of nature did Vt'anton ii\ 

flowVs, 
There, 2^^ fancy directed, or custom bade pull, 
The sweets of the garden or meadow he'd cull, 
And, in counting their sweets, he was sure to apply 
All was io\N2]y in them to the cause of his sigh. 
He painted his Valentine over witli darts, 
Blind Cupids, barVd arrows, and blood-streaming 

hearts, 
And he hop'd by this tender assemblage to move 
The heart of his fair one to yield him its love! 
M 



146 

Tiio' the fashion is changed and such scenes fled 
away, 
Tho' unheeded now passes- Saint Valentine^s day; 
Yet permit me, dear S****, the friend ofyoui* life^ 
To address you as one that will soon be a wife, 
(For if fame with her hundred tongues loudly dor{t 

lie. 
And report a base faisehoad, that event is- nigh.) 

No doubt you have seen, and, like me, have ad* 

i»ir\l, 
The substantial bless of a couple retired 
From the mad scenes of life, giddy youth doth ap^ 

provff. 
To feast on the fatness of conjugal iove!' 
But beware, while your soul pants for blessings sb 

pure, 
That you be not misled by a glittering lure;. 
For, in spite of the Sophist, his ergos^ and arts^ 
True felicity rests but with union of lieas'ts; 
And whatever the world may to riches affix, 
Yet, believe me, there^s grief in a chariot and six. 
Then let merit alone be your test for a man, 
With a heart gqyarxl to yours, in each wish, in 
each plan. 



147 

Wiien the knot once is tied, be it yours toDeklnd^ 
To his virtues alive— to Iiis failings be blind; 
And let mutual iove spring irom mutual trust, 
Thus, the " hinges of friendship*"' shall never know 

rust. 
Let economy guide you, and prudence direct — - 
To the friends of yonr husband show proper respect; 
I^et no action be prompted by caprice or spleen; 
But, in short, be a wife what a lass yoti have 'bead 

Had the Giver of life, in His goodness divine, 
Your promising destinies blended in mine. 
With a bosom like yours, that so finely can feel, 
I could picture the moments how s¥/eet tliey \yould 

steal; 
But, fate hath thought fit to refuse the decree— 
I will smile on your choice, tlio' more happy tha,n 

m.e; 
And hope for your friendship, tho^ wed far away, 
To illume hfe's dark lioui's with a transient ray. 

Fiirewel, then, my .friend, ^nd I hope you'll ex* 
cuse 
This unpohslVd production of my rural muse; 
For, (however impertinent like it may seem.,) 
I assure you ifs dictated all by esteem: 
MS 



148 

.Aiiil, if giTiciously pleas'd to accept of my lay, 
Tlio^ its somctliiog like barter, I ever will pray; 
Tliat no cankering care may eer prey on your mind; 

That the man of your heart may be constant and 

kind, 
May prize all your beauties, your merits may know; 
Th.at the gales of prosperity round you may blow; 
And may every new year^ some nev/ pleasure dirv- 

To count ia the tram of Saint Yalenlinrs dav! 



TO WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 
On reacUiig Ms Lady of the Lake,. 



'*/».'V%.'\/W».'V%-^^-V'»'V>'WV^^^». 



What's in a name? That wliich we call a -rose 
'Would smeU as sweet by any other name, 
^And 60 wotJd he, tboiigh not call'd Romeo. 

Shakespe^He. 



Pesmit, O Scott, a nameless country muse, 
While drinking inspiration from thy page. 

To pay thy name its tributary dues, 
And say how deep' your strains the soul engagef 

Tho' poor to please — tlio' harsh her harp's best 
tones, 
And all unfitting for thy polish''d ear; 

Yet ponderous piles oft rise from roughest stones. 
And rock-rais'd flowers are ever held most de^i . 

. Deign then to still my fond parental fears'— 
Accept my will, aitho' the ^qq^, be weak; 

And let the plaudits of my humble peerS; 
Stand Buttress to the Lady of the Lake! 

MS 



1<50 

Among tlie inmates of the lowly cot, 
Wheie I was rear'd, far from the city's din. 

No rival critics emulously blot, 
''No poisoning cant calls admiration sin, 

But where a poet catches Nature^s glow, 
Or sends his flights, pathetic, to the heart. 
We wreath our homage round his laurePd brpw. 

Nor carp, nor care, about the rules of sst 

With us, what fancy following " tliQ chase" 
Around Loch Katrine"'s wild enchanting maze. 

That does not pant to see the loveiy place. 
And realize the deeds of other days? 

When Ellen's skiff skims o'er the silver tide, 
Not more unsullied than her maiden fame, 

And her bright image glitters on its side; 
Who would not wish to be, a Malcom Graeme? 

Or, when contending passions in her eye, 
teids Malcom grapple Avith great Roderick Dhu„ 

Then, nobly brave, that gloomy chief defy; 
What nymph but sighs, ^<^ Were I an Ellen too?" 

'-"""mie Fiery-Cross doth every feeling rouse. 
When young Ajmandave mourns his Mary dear, 



lol 

The soul of love is breathed by the muse, 
Till transport trembles on a grateful tear! 

When crazy Blanche wild warbles o'er her tvoes. 
The strings of pity thrill a deeper note; 

And when the arrow wings her to repose, 
Each heart cries vengeance on the treacherous Scot! 

While, tho'' our wishes are with brave Fitz- James, 
When Roderick raises hundreds v/ith a call. 

Some generous traits his charactory claims. 
That bids us even respect him in his fall: 

And last, when Douglass heaves the earth-bound 
stone. 
And hurls proud victory beyond all fame, 

Altho"* the shout should make a i\Ionarch groan^ 
Who would not glory in the loud acclaim? 

! Douglass! The name hath magic in the sound! 
What Scotchman's blood but mantles to his cheek. 

When all the glories of that race renown'd, 
In bright succession, for his country speak? 

What mind unmov'd their virtues can review? 
What heart but swells v/ith freedom's ferv^ed rage, 



15^ 

When Douglass lives in thy warm strains anew; 
Or Wallace fights in Porter's gild^ed page? 

Since then, "'tis yours, the latent sparks to raise. 
That burn'd so bright in martial flame of old; 

Go on to fan the ready mounting blaze. 
While yet a hero's story can be told — 

To raise, and rally round our sea-girt Isle, 
An host of hero's panting to be sung; 

Thus freedom's friends shall mock invasion's toil^ 
And Patriot Scott sball dwell on every tongue! 



TO STELLA, 

ON LOYE. 



And say, without oUrhoijes, tvithout our fears, 
Without the home that plighted love endeaxs; 
Without the smile fi-om partial heauty won, 
O ^v]■!at were man? A world without ^ sun! 

Campbeljl. 



You chid me Stella — chid me sore; 

Deep sunk the reprehension. 
Yet still, tho' trembling, I adore, 

And crave thy kind attention: 

While I invoke the .Muse's aid. 
If, haply, she might prove 

The humble means of having staid 
Our battles about love; 

Nor think that I v^^ill s|:reLch her wing 

O'er nctions fairy field; 
If reason can't conviction bring, 

I cheerfully will yield. 

'Tis granted true, that passion's voice 
Hatli often led astray, 



154 

And witching beauty's thoughtless choice. 
Like Job^ hath cursYl its day; 

But though some fond deluded pairs 

May spurn the joyless good, 
It only follows, love like tlieir's 

Was of a spurious brood, 

For, take it genuine, bt^.ilt on worth, 

And trace it round the world. 
The noblest actions still had birth, 

Where " Venus' car is hurFd;"" 

And, if your leisure hours are cliarm'd 

With time's historic page, 
You'll find that Rdlas it hath \varm'd. 

In almost every a| 



ige! 



When mad-brain'd v/ar, with savage sway. 

Was rascins: unconfin'd. 
How oft hath love rescu'd its prej. 

And liumamz'd the mind? 

I modern times, the mighty nod 
That thousands doom'd io bleed, 
.-Heview'd, for love, his penal code, 
In justice to the dead! 



155 

Ambition heaves its hydra head. 
Earth's passions round it move; 

But mercy bids tlie motley breed 
To centre all in love! 

<< Faith, hope, and love, now dwell on earth. 

And earth by them is blest; 
But faith, and hope, must yield to love, 

Of all the graces best/'* 

And could you chide me, lovely maid? 

Could you think ine unkind. 
When love's the noblest passion said* 

That Tvarms the human mind? 

Think, Stella, think upon the bless 

That mutual love imparts-^ 
A bless that time must still encrease 

Witli unity of hearts, 

For when the angel sinks to wife. 

And wife puts on the woman, 
Perhaps opposing modes of life 

^lay give no flattering omen, 

Put soon as custom gains new power, 
To inelt such manthng dross, 



Then soul to soul dotli every liour^ 
Assimilate more close: 

New scenes unfold nev/ traits of mind — ' 
These traits draw forth new love: 

Thus down life's tide, with favouring wind. 
Their httle bark doth move; 

Or, even misfortune's bitter blast 

Might pelt them all in vain, 
Since every struggle locks more fast 

The hymeneal chain: 

fsfo selfish wish, no jarring will 

The bold intruder finds; 
But heart meets heart, with answering thrill, 

Drawn from congenial minds! 

Yes! call it friendship^ — call it love. 

Or any other name; 
If inward peace our choice approve. 

The joys are much the same; 

And, let the sensual earthist prate, 

It surely was designed, 
In Heaven's unerring rolls of fate, 

That mi?id should seek to mmd 



.157 

'Tis this that matrimony's face 
Doth brighten with a smile— 

The fountain this from whence to trc^ce 
Bairn for the lover's toil; 

While, should the Giver of all good 

The nuptial wish fulfil. 
Their smiling images protrude 

" A tie more tender still — ^^ 

Tq see the prattling urchins play 

Around your wilhng knee, 
Or hear them, innocently gay. 

Lisp o'er their plaints to thee; 

To watch young reason's early dawn, 

To point fair virtue's road. 
And share the soul that's daily drawn. 

More near to Nature's God! 

^ay, social commerce, what you feel? 

Say, is there ties more dear, 
When down your cheeks in concert steal 

«' The rapture speaking tear?" 

'Tis true, that life's a chequer'd scene, 
And thorns surround the rose; 

N 



158 

^ut who would yield for prickling pain 
The sweetest flower that blows? 

Or who, to please youth's giddy range, 
Would let that floweret wither, 

And for't, the pleasing hope exchange- 
Of growing old together? 

Of stealing through life's misty clittie. 

Unite by kindred cares; 
Unconscious that the hand of time 

Had silvered oVr their hairs. 

Till;, hand in hand, both weary grow% 
And both by age oppressed, * 

With lively hope they lay them down, 
'Then spring to endless restl 



PETITION 

To tlie Honourable the JBoard of Excise.^ 181£ 



Petition me no petitions to-day! 
I will hear none of them. Smile Dolalola! 
The man who frowns shall have his head chop'd oiF, 
Tbftt iie may hav^ no faca to frown withall. 



Permit me, most honoured, the Board of Excise; 
Not a fulsome address praising you to the skies. 
But a statement unvarnish'd, a plain tale of woe, 
As your servants most humble petition will show. 

Be it knt>wn to your Board, then, I humbly insist, 
That IVe long been ambitious of entering the list, 
Who are fed by your bounty, your voice who obey, 
And are ready your servants by night and by day 
For this purpose I oft applications h^ve made 
Unto men v/ho keep more of expectants than trade. 
All pretended particular friends of your Graces, 
Tho', perhaps, not a one of them eVr saw your facesi 
But, as all had the knack to send me home well 

pleas'd— 
Sure never poor devil was so tantalized! 
1^2 



160 

For one day my fond hopes rode on prospects most 

bright, 
And the next they were wrap'd in oWivion's night; 
Till, at last, full convinced, that I never could swim 
On the weak shallow wave of a ramified stream, 
I fairly resolved— and God grant it may speed! 
To mount on Pegassiis, my dear, only steed, 
And to knock for admission at the fountain head 
O be gracionsly pleas'd then, I humbly entreat, 
To consider my case when in council you meet. 
And, if not inconsistent with right in your eyes, 
To appoint me a place in our Sovereign's excise! 

You may think it presumptive — I scarce think it 
less. 
That i dare to present you with such an address, 
All unknown, all unback'd; but, permit me to say, 
To offend is not meant, and believe me you may; 
111 be equally useful, if granted a place. 
As put forward by fifty Lord Dukes in a brace; 
And be ready wherever you please me to send, 
From our ain Jolmie Groats, to the very Land's end. 

The accustomed references all will be nam'd, 
Should it e'er be your pleasure's to cause them be 
claim'd. 



161 

And although to your honours, acknowledge I must^ 
That particular professions Yve learn'd to distrust. 
You will surely allow me to say, I'll in whole, 
Poke my nose into every exciseable hole. 
And by checking of fraud, in as far as I c^n, 
Be the revenue's friend and fair trader's in oige. 

Do but grant my request, and from that happy 
day. 
Your grateful petitioner ever will pray. 
That of heaven's warmest blessings a competent 

share 
May rest upon every Commissioner's chair. 
Until honour'd and late, when at last you resign; 
It may be but above the more brightly to shine!* 

* The only answer ever received to the above, was a notification 
through the Supervisor of the District, that the Board never appointed 
any person on their own recocunendation. 



N$ 



On reading in the Newspapei^s that a So'iv 
had pidled a man's Watch from his pocket, 
and so grushed it mth its mouth, as to 
spoil the xvorli entirely before it could he 

recovered. 



1*11 make thee to eat iron like the Ostrich, and swallow my sword 
like a great pin, ere thou and I part. Shakespeare. 



Tho"' with patient perusal IVe crept me along 
Thro'' the page of Linnaeus^ and eke of Buffon, 
Either memory fails, or I ne'er read till nowj 
That silver was reckoned a soss for a sow! 
Had the fact been disclosed, when these gentlemen 

wTote, 
It had puzzfd them sore, I could wager a groat, 
In the language of science^ correctly to say, 
Whether silver was food or the freak of a day. 
If the former be found, it accounts in a trice 
For the scarceness of bullion, the rise in its price; 
And, allowing the system of silver fed swine 
To continue, the quantum must farther decline. 
Bank Directors will then be the props of our nation; 
Stockholders will fear then no depreciation; 



163 

The sun of our paper unclouded will shine. 
And Horner* give up his preposterous design; 
For how could he hope such a plan would succeed, 
Had he fairly consider Yl how swine were to feed ? 
And though Timothy Tinker,-[- that eminent brazier, 
Be dealing with metals infinitely baser. 
Yet still, as their palate's not deenvd over nice. 
Could the man be disposed to take friendly advice, 
His kettles and pans he would quickly throw bye, 
Or the w^hole ^vill be toss'd in a dirty pig's stye. 

Whether Davy, or Ure, men of chemical fame. 
Are prepared to give this new process a name? 
Or whether, hke jugglers, swine have their tricks? 
Are all queries to which I no answer affix. 
Only this, should the nutrative process agree. 
They are better, by far, at digesting than me. 
And if only a juggle, the wonderful trick 
Most undoubtedly proves them owre sib zvV auld 
Nick. 



* The late Francis Horner, Esq. who took an active part in the 
Bullion question of 1811; urging the necessity of the Bank resuming 
cash payments. 

-|- The signature of a humovirous letter, published in the Newspapers 
at that tune, recommending to caU in all the brass pans and copper 
kettles in tlie comitry, and convert them into money. 



164 

The conclusion is this, that each sapient Divine, 
When commenting on " Cast not your pearls before 

sr>T[ne," 
Will be able, henceforward, with arguments new. 
To prove tlieu' destruction one way of the two. 
For, tho^ Henry near dreamed of their gTinders in 

play, 
Yet the world it gi'ows wise said more wise every 

day; 
And when fresh commentators tliis text shall review. 
It is hoped thejll remember the Thmikerton Sow / 



An Essay on Old Maids 



What a terrible fate an old maid — Love in a Vittage* 



Lend me your smile, old maid— ^ 
Ha! ne'er a smile hast thou; 
Well, well! nought can be said; 
What is not, ^von't bestow. 
Young sister give me yours. 
You're verging fast to age, 
ril strew the way with fiowVs, 
If you your smiles engage. 
Aye thou art something good. 
Thy brow's not yet beclouded. 
Nor, vinegar bedew'd. 
Thy face with frov/ns enshroiickvl; 
But no, you need not tell 
That marriage you don't want, 
I know- — ^you knov/ yoursi l'. 
That this were only cant: 
Better, aloiost, to lie 
Good-humour'dly, and tell. 
You ne'er did man deny, 
Than let spite and venom swei'. 



166 

But " spite and venom,""' thaf s a heavy charge. 
And doubtless calls for a more serious verse; 

Come, coYne, discuss; prepound to me at large— 
None of your shifts and snappish xetoirts terse. 

Quest How comes it then, that half the world 
agree 
To brand the name with such unceasing chime? 

Jns. Because that half hatli not yet learn d to see 
The difference 'twixt misfortune and 't^vixt crime. 

■/ 
Q. You then admit, say for the sake of jingls, 
It is misfortune that still keeps you single? 

A, Yes surely. Set down this a part of my creed, 
«< Two's better then one, when the two arc agreed^ 

Q. Am I then to assume, that the sisterhood's 
ranks, 
Are almost exclusively filled with blanks, 
Who^ in stretching their throats wedded peace to 

destroy, 
Are but railing at what thej could never enjoy? 

A. Such an inference were not fair— . 
Siayhap ,some few ne'er spiirn'd an offer, 



167 

But most of us are grey old maids 
From having duely weighed the proffer: 

Our strength, our wisdom a' hes there, 
Let giddy fools go grasp a coffer, 

I fifty times would rather share 

A garret and a single chair, 
With my auld cat to sing grey tlirums. 

Then wed, without esteem or love^ 
The first fond fool that comes! 

Q. Why then doth envy such aspersions throw 
Around a sister marching to the chiu-ch? 

Were she as cold, pure, chaste, as unsun'd snow, 
Meek^ harmless, gentle, as the turtle dove> 

A bawd, a punk, a perfect verigo, 
Yoyr tongues would bid her to the altar moye/ 

Is this to do as you would be done by? 

Is this the proof that in your bosoms lie. 
That sweet content, that placid waveless joy. 

That bids your hearts ascend, and heaven 
Your every thought empjoy? 

A. Some speckfd bii'd haunts every flock, 
Whose tongue may run at random waste, 

But you, from tlience, can't judge the stock 
Who such a morsel seldom taste: 



168 

Besides, before our backs you baste, 
Consider well our provocation; 

The taunts, the jeers before us plac'd. 
Our lone, our helpless situation, 

That oft will force us, spite of better sense. 

To tear a character in just defence. 

Q. But does not aU the Hornet-bearding bike^ , 
Set up their lungs in concert and fuJl cry. 

Whenever beauteous frailty makes a slip, 
Or virtue heaves an unforbidding sigh? 

There you are speckl'd— speckl'd all alike; 
And does not this bespeak an evil eye? 

That scornful smile, that blue-bit, pride-screw'd lip. 
Withers the green leaves of repentance — fie! 

J. From this God save us! nor severe, nor proudj 
To crush repentance were a deadly sin, 

But if to vaunt we were at all allowed, 
*'Tis here our pride, our vaunting would begin! 

Think you the blood that flows our veins within, 
With gentler current urged our green age, 

Or that temptation wore a rougher skin, 
Less skilFd to gloss the soul-seducing page. 
When we our virgin vows did all inviolate engage? 



169 

Q. O mighty good! O enviable state! 
Each chastened drop of blood that leaves your heart. 
Speeds back, with tidings, to its Lord again. 
That thus, and thus, you ever will remain! 
But, since eternal sunshine sheds 
Its mellow beams around your heads. 

What means that crabbed vinegar face^ 
That peevish spiteful frineing: 

Those uncheck-d sallies might well disgrace, 
The ranks of a deeper afflicted race. 
Through a denser medium shining? 

A, There too doth fame outrun desert; 

For time eats best of tempers rusty— 
Unsheltered from a single airt. 

No wonder ours show something musty. 

But were the bickerings and strife. 

That keeps alive domestic hfe,. 

As wide, as pompously display'dj, 

As each tert slip of an old maid. 
Wedlock would bathe in a drumlier stream, 
And the maiden bucket would kick the beam. 

Q, And liow will you gloze the censorious peal, 
That your cotarie's constantly ringing, 

O 



170 

Round every innocent dress, dance, or tale. 
From fasliion or gaiety springing? 
This dwells forever on your tongue — 
'Such things were not when we were young! 

^. As sunshine is pictured the better for shade. 
So a foible may help to set off an old maid; 
I admit it as such— but, at same time, profess 
We have guiltless antipathies often at dress. 
Tho' aware that the world much the same will be 

found. 
When fashions and follies are shifting their ground; 
As the foible or fashion one virtue may smother, 
Will only make room for the growth of another; 
Yet still, Dame Propriety hints, that her shapes. 
Harmless droll! by-and-bye,wdll clap tales to the apes. 
How disgusting to sec some our covey might grace. 
Adding curls to the wrinkles that furrow their face, 
And parading the playhouse, the park, or the green. 
Tricked out in the kickshaws and ilirds of fifteen! 

Q. And is not it equal disgusting to hear, 
A bedlam denuded of mould, mind, and grace, 

Loud vaunting the offers she spurned with a jeer, 
And recounting the triumphs atchiev'd by her fa,ce' 



171 

A. Never shall I the advocate appear 
Of faults, unwashed by deep contrition's tear. 
The cause I plead, will better speed 

A candid face to wear; 
Yet this you may, permit to say, 

I say it without fear, 
A maid of sense, on no pretence. 
This blot will ever bear. 
She knows, vvhen time's insiduous tooth 

Has moatled all her hairs, 
That the gilded charm of her happy youth. 
Is fled on the winds of care forsooth. 

Like passing midnight airs; 
And the casual eye can hardly trace. 
In the wrecks of her time-worB, toothless face, 

Such a charm was ever there! 
This seals her lips, for she knows full well 

The assertion were more than vain — 
That laugh'd at, misdoubted, and laugliVl at again, 
A barb for ridicule, a butt for disdain. 
She ever thereafter might dwell. 

Q. According to you, then, a wrinkfd old maid, 
Is not quite such a monster as oft hath been said. 

j^i trust you have seen, that respectable life 
Demands approbation, maid, widow^ or wife, 
0^ 



A Consultation, 1810. 



Ye have riven the thack aff seven cotter~houses— -see if j^ou? aitt 
roof-tree stand the faster. Ye may stable your stirks in the Shealings 
at Drancleugh — see that the hare does not couch on the hearthstane at 
Ellan^rowan. Meg MiaJllLiES. 



The sun had warsaFd. wast the hft, 

And sunk in the Atlantic; 
At least, "t^vas shaded frae our sight 

By muckle hill o' Tuntack; 
The paitricks scraight about the dykes. 

The bairns were busy shdin"*, 
And loudly yeaumph'd the hale town fykes, 

As curlers hame were glidin' 

Frae th' ice that night 

Tlieir besoms trailV! far ^liint their a — e, 

A sad portentous omen, 
That on tlie loch their luck was scarce — 

Indeed 'twas nought uncommon. 
The wind blew bleak frae Quoth qiianlaw^. 

The drift began a steering, 
And wives their wisps began to draw^ 

Hound ilk door bottom, fearitf 

The storm that night. 



173 

The tempest roar'd, and louder roar\l— - 

It beat wi' boundless fury: 
A witch, aboon the breathin' scorVl, 

Ne'*er waken'd sic a hurry! 
The villagers began to prate, 

And round the scandal bother; 
Auld Hornie's Council never sat 

In better plotting weather. 

Than was that night. 

'Such was the scene, when Fairy Bob, 

One of the Elfin nation; 
Overheard a farmer and his rib. 

In close confabulation. 
The Ian"* was portiorfd out in sma's 

Around their little dwallin'. 
Which tradesmen's bairns had busk''d wi' bras, 

Wha gloried in their jaiailin. 

For mony a day. 

But how their tacks were wearin' out, 

This pair them e'ed aslant, 
And wheefd their noddles round about. 

To calculate rack-rent, 
^uoth Tarn, " My dear, mark weei tlie times^ 

And now let's cut a figure, 
03 



174 

Nor toil like slaves in parched climes 
Of Joliba or Niger, 

Our luckless life: 

^^ IVe ever thought folks nobly bora, 

Might baud their heads aboon; 
Then, Tibby, let's exalt our horn, 

And sing exclusion's tune; 
Ilk man o' taste wad join the band 

Wr marrow-bones and cleavers. 
Could we extirpate frae the land 

These mushroom upstart weavers 

Some happy day!" 

* Indeed,' qouth Tib, ^ IVe often spited 

To see you no head's-man. 
When ought was doon, or held as doited 

By chanler-chafted tradesmen. 
I ken they'll raise some unco routes, 

And ca' us bonny names—" 
" Ne'er mind," says Tam, " We'U see their cowta 

Wi' fewer buckling kames, 

Some ither day. 

'^ An' had we but the pick and wale, 
I fam wad try my fortune; 



17.5 

If graith be gude, an' branks bide hale, 

We'll soon get walth o' courtin'! 
There's Chickwort Craft and Mngwort Mains, 

Lies unco pack theg-ither, 
Wi' little either broom or whins. 

But fertile ony weather, 

Gude iifty acrs. 

ft 

«- What think ye, Tib? Might I gae bid 

A hunder an a half? 
We'll surely pay't in some gude tid, 

Wi' either corn or caff. 
Your tocher fairly doubles that. 

The ither haf 's for stockin'; 
Were that a' free, we might grow fat, 

And mind nae man a dockin' 

On ony day/' 

' I kenna, Tammy,' Tib replies, 
' Wad things bide as they are. 
Perhaps it might turn out a prize, 

WY blessin' o' the war! 
But, should the king clap up a peace 

Wi' ony foreign nation. 
Our troubles then might fast increase, 
• And muckie black vexation 

Attend that day—' 



176 

** Toot, quash sic fears,"' cries Tammy, " Doo , 

For them there's nae occasion-— 
Gude faith! a peace wi' France tlie nu' 

Wad ruin half the nation! 
There's sic a sight o' corky-headed. 

Second-handed gentry. 
That warna junior Ensigns needed, 

Wae be to the country 

That luckless day!* 

" Now I can calculate mysel'. 

The weight o' hairst and hay-times — 
ILet's hear how eggs an' cheese maun sell. 

And a' the little items? 
First whey and milk, five fardins gude— - 

Ne'er mind the country clatter, 
We'll grind them till they chew their cud 

On gruel made o' water, 

Fu' thin ilk day! 

" Neist caff, for either bed or cow. 
To every sack three shillin'; 

* Should Tammy and Tibby be alive at tkis day, they will 
iind in the present times that their fears were by no means xm- 
founded; and, it is not improbable, that Tib may be reailing a 
course of loving lectures to her husband, on his too easy belief, »n4 
•jelf-willed calcnJiation on the continuance of war. 



n 



An' five — ye ken I payM it Doo! 

When Crummie was a biUin^; 
Three dizen chickens, every year, 

Will bring us something b^, 
Forbye what ye may get. my dear. 

By selling their hen-pen 

On wasbin' dayg!^ 

Tib hf ard him out, and smil'd aiient, 

Syncj braggin'' o' her butterj 
Decki'''d, « "'twas weel worth a*" the rent, 

And aiblins something better.'* 
Sae Tammy hied him to the laird? 

And made his dernier offer; 
The laird replies, «* Gif* I be gpa-t'dj 

1.11 baud je by thi» profft'i'«--' 

Glide luck fye Tammy,-' 



The Haiistacli\ 



The rural talTc, 
The mral scandal, and the rural jest, 
Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time, 
Aud steal, vmfelt, the sultry hours away. 

Thomson. 



Among the inmates of our farm-town cots. 
The Haystack-day peculiarly is mark'd. 
It is a little festival, to which 
Their youthful neighbours mostly are invite, 
And oft concludes in animating dance, 
Or other gambols, big with festive joy. 
Hence, on this happy (xs.j^ tlie rural nymphs 
All in their brightest bed-gowns are array 'd, 
And sweetl}^ cleckYl with artless beauty's charm, 
Beyond the reach of changeful fashion's shapes: 
The glow of health suffuses every cheek. 
Now crimsoned deeper with exertion's dye; 
The catching smile of pleasure beaniing love, 
The ready burst of undisguised mirth 
That follows every rude essay of wit^ 
With that enlivening rusticated air, 
That reigns o'er all the cheerful looking band. 



179 

Presents, in whole^ as sweet a sylvan scene 
As ever Pan peeped at in days of yoref 

Along the field, with conic buildings crowned. 
Their various offices are portioned out; 
Some heave a coil, at every sturdy lift. 
Up to the top of yonder touring cart, 
Some build the draughts, while others spread around^ 
And with their rakes collect wind-scfStter'd spoils. 
At intervals of toil, when carts are fuD, 
They club together, and full oft discuss 
Some knotty point in village Gazette given,^ 
Until a girl, more waggish than the rest. 
And who hath drunk assurance from the eye 
Of him her heart elected for its love. 
Breaks the debate, by placing on his neck 
Some little creeping tenant of the earth: 
Half stifled laughter, and important winks 
From every eye, points out the impious deed— 
The trembfmg culprit flies across the plain; 
But ah, ill-fated maid! a monstrous coil 
Impedes her winding flight, and down she falls, 
Prostrate and faint, upon the farther side, 
Her panting lover, stretched and breathless by herf 
With eager haste he strains lier to his heart. 
Imprints a kiss upon her burning lips, 



180 
Then joins the laugh that had been rais'd against him. 

The barn-yard teems with equal busy tribes: 
Two veterans, grey in hay-day service grown, 
Are set apart to guide the fising stack, 
To square its sides with mathematic skiJl, 
To point its angles, and with gentle sweilj 
To raise a belly to the taper head. 
Three youthful rustics, warm, in beauty's prime. 
With agile swing in reglar dasses spread 
Their scented armfuls, now assuming form: 
But bent on merriment in life's gay mom, 
Happy to-day, and careless of to-morrow. 
They yield their hearts to every new impuls.e 
That steals across their easy tickled minds; 
And frequent vent their playful wit and mirth^ 
In pointed sarcasm, that oft provokes 
The patient forker to forego his task. 
And spread them squalling on the bounding stacks 
Perhaps all torn and sweating with the fight! 
Thus fly the hours, by mirth jocosely \\dng'd. 
That else had draggVl a leaden load along. 
And rendered unsupportable their toij. 

Meantime, the careful housewife labours hard 
To see her dinner ordered aright, 



181 

And other, minor-thought, arrangements made 
To meet the wants of all her rustic guests^ — 
The wit-inspiring bottle is brought forth. 
And curds and cream, in plenty crown the board, 
The sure rewards of that days willing toil. 

How noble are thy works, great Nature^s God! 
How rich thy goodness to industrious man! 
How many blessings flow from social life! 
And how much debted are the brutal tribes 
To man'*s exalted prescience of events? 
For, had the vast gregarious tribes of earth 
Been suffered to run loose, and range at large 
O'er every fertile corner of the globe; 
Perhaps, in luxury of summer's pride, 
They might have spurn'd more wantonly the rein, 
Or prouder paw'd the flow'ry spangled vale, 
If left uncrib'd to riot on its sweets; 
But, when the winter came with all its storms. 
When chilling frost had nip'd each vital blade. 
And driving snows obscur'd the face of day. 
Where, then, ye shivVing, homeless wanderers, 
Would 3^ou find shelter from the l3eating stornx. 
Or wherewithal to still the clamorous voice 
Of craving appetite, when all your hopes, 
Were buried, deep, in winter's crusted coat, 
P 



las 

Without the aid of storm-subduing man? 
'Tis then he ope's his hospitable door. 
And bids his hay- stack bend to all your wants; 
Thus chasing friged winter's ghastly gloom 
With borrowed comforts from a milder sky. 
Sure then, 'tis justice, that in summer months 
You give your willing shoulders to the yoke. 
Or yield your service, in what other way 
Your native qualities may best befit. 
As part of payment, for the fostering care, 
And kind protection lent in harder times.* 



* The foregoing is an extract from a Poem entitled A Summer 
Day, being the Author's first, and indeed almost his only attempt at 
Blank Verse. It notices the most prominent appearances of the 
fields and labour about a Country Farm V^illage, m the beginning 
of August; carries a party to the top of Tinto, and traces the Clyde 
as far as it can be done from thence, remarking on the general pros- 
pect, and interspersed with reflections naturally arising out of the sub- 
ject. A WiKTEK. Day Avas begim on the same plan, though never 
iinislied; but, should the above meet with any attention from the pub^ 
lie, probably they may botii be pviblished some after period. 



epistles 



^4 



TO MR. JOHN BELL, 

Author of Cartlane Craigs^ a Poem. 

Q uiTE tir d with marching and with wheehng, 
Inspecting officers, and drilling, 
To \^Tite to you, an hour" I'm stealing 

From worldly cares; 
Its ranting, rumbling, roaring, reeling, 

I count as tares. 

Shrunk in itself, active employed. 
The mists of ignorance destroyed. 
The mind, hy vapid pleasures cloy'^d, 

Directs its course 
To friendship, pure and unalioy'd. 

With tenfold force: 

Friendship at once expands the heart, 

Distends and warms each vital part. 

New soul and vigour doth impart 

To all our joys; 
It soothes affliction's poignant dart, 

its force destroys! 



184 

Oft I retrace youth's dulcet scene-, 
With heart-enhv'ning joy, serene; 
^Vith glowing ardour all was seen — 

All, all, was joy, 
AMien sporting on the flow'ry green, 

Nought to annoy. 

Oft have we spent the live long day, 
In bigging bow'racks on the brae; 
Or in some cozic nook Vy^e lay, 

And read a story- 
How did our buoyant spirits play. 

And pant for glory! 

When youthful pleasures fed our dream. 
Life seem'd a pure unruffled stream! 
When basking in each sunny gleam 

Joyous, unthinking, 
It ne'er occur'd it was life's cream. 

That we were drinking; 



to' 



Stay, fleeting moments! wont you stay 
And cheer us with thy vivid ray; 
Ah! why so quickly wing your way? 

Why fly so fast? 
Ere we appreciate youth's bright day, 

'Tis gone, 'tis past! 



185 

We first ill concert strung the lyre, 
And warmed with poetic fire, 
J)id vent our boyish rage and ire 

On Jenny Guiin, 
And why should partnership expire, 

So young begun? 

Now that your Muse hath gather"'d heels, 
To wander a' them critic chiels. 
That rage about, like roaring deils. 

Gaping for prey; 
Let's try wha best Parnassus speils, 

Wha wears the bay: 

While emulation gi'es the spur. 
We'll skelp a' them that virtue blurr; 
We'll yoke our pleugh, and deeply fur 

Corruption's heart; 
Her spretty knowes, an' ketty turr, 

We'll tear apart, 

I ken my muse hath a tea-face. 

And sluggish ease her nerves unbrace: 

B ut, while you dare the onmost chace 

Converting fools^ 
To use a yoiragster's shinty phrase, 

I'll " Kep hin-dools.' 

P3 



1S6 

Lefs have from you a skelpin letter. 
For to arrange this business better. 
Wave a' restraint but friendship's fetter: 

In serious mood, 
I'd thank you much, be much your debtor. 

But to conclude: 

May He, "who makes mankind his care. 
Dispense thee a peculiar share 
Of stingless comforts, sweet and rare. 

Guard thee from vice! 
Shall ever be the fervent prayer, 

Of, yours, Fordyce. 



•TO THE SAME, 

0)1 the Publication of his Carilane Craigs. 

Hail to the muse of Clyde! 

Hail Bell her favoured son! 
Long may her hand thee guide 
Thy race of fame to run! 
Long may that stream roll to the main. 
And Cartlane Craigs rebound again, 
The mellow lays, 
The well earned praise. 
Thy first essay hath won! 
Yes! Clydesdale, which long Bardless sat. 

Now hails the happy hour. 
Thy fancy hit on Maggy's Cat, 
Or sketched the Elfin Bower: 

Tho'^hard her bed, which gave thee birth, 
She sees, she owns thy native worth. 

Thy self-selected lore; 
And, justly warm''<J vA\h scenic pride. 
Swears that her sons shall take no guide 

From foreign minstrels more: 



'O* 



Nor idolize dull classic sots. 
When oii her breezes swell. 



188 

Tlie bold, the wiJd, th' imtutor''d notes. 
Of Burns, of Hogg, of Bell! ! ! 

When, in our thoughtless boyish days, 
We trip'd o'*er Tinto's heather braes. 
Warm fancy ting'd our morning rays, 

And young delight, 
Bedizzen^d manhood's untry'd ways 

With visions bright. 

When our rude hands first struck the lyre, 
We deem'd the lisfning world on fire; 

We knew no clfim. 
That rank or name, 
Could urge exclusively on fame. 

But ah! let age wind up his tale — 
If thrown hke us on humble life. 

He'll paint lank- sided hope grown pale. 
And sick'ning sunk 'midst fortune's strife! 

Such is our envy, prejudice, or pride, 
(Sad, sad reflection! take it which you will,) 

That few, indeed, dare on Pegassus ride, 
Unless a title give, or praise their skill! 



189 

If then, 'tis yours, to burst the mzzard spell, 
And cause rude crowds hi boisterous plaudits join. 

Friendship might sigh, "all surely is not well,'" 
And justly too, were I refusing mine: 

But should *' the million's" thoughtless sneer be 
thine. 
And vulgar malice gi'udge to deck thy tale; 

Should palid envy dare refuse to twine, 
Thy chaplets due, in Cartlane's blooming vale; 
Still think, that here, are hearts which will not 
fail. 
To pay thy worth its tribute duly won — 

Some " noble spirits," that will join to hailj 
While circling seasons in their orbit run, 
The russet muse of Clyde, and Bell her favoured 
son. 



TO MR. J*** c*********% LANARK. 

A s dosing last night in my great elbow-chair, 
Sleeping sick of the promise I made at the fair; 
It came plump in my head, tho** not caring a sneeshin", 
That I'd to the hussy prefer a petition, 
Whose smile inspiration had warmed at times. 
When a tagging together of doggerel rhymes. - 
As good luck would have had it, she just hove ia 

view; 
So, my best leg drawn foremost, I made her a bow. 
Stroked my beard, blew my nose, gave a hem, and 

began: 
" Lady Muse! would you deign my poetics to fan, 
And a moment or two o^er my pen to preside. 
Giving freely and smoothly my numbers to glide, 
I would fain, on the birth of his daughter, address 
A young friend, who has prais'd you sometimes o'er 

a glass; 
And on whom, as I think him good hearted, d'ye 

3ee, 
I have promised to spend your next favour to me." 

Had you seen how the jade toss'd her snout in the 
air. 
And with what a disdainful indifferent stare 



191 

She turii'd round on her heel — by great Orpheus 

Ijrely 
If there^s gall in your breast, Sir, the train had 

caught fire; 
While, with simper constrained, her transgi'ession to 

plaister. 
She began to dispute with her lord and her master: 
* Pray, good Sir!"* and the slut ambl'd smoothly for"*t 

^ Are you really, at last, your cogg-bottom to claw ? 
Have you never a theme more befitting my trade, 
Than the musheroom sprout of a poor wabster''s bed? 
Must I hail procreation 'mong soen and thrumbs? 
Must I praise, must I please, ilka flatfrer that 

comes? 
Nay, my Liege! in this case you'll excuse me, I pray. 
For indeed, and most truely, IVe nothing to say. 
It's a twelvemonth and more since I coupled a line; 
Thro** the rust of disuse, I can ne'er hope to shine, 
And to scour up my pipe at so humble a birth, 
Costs more trouble and time than the creature is 

worth.' 

If the blood in your face do not mount forehead 

And the flash of resentment burst bright from your 
eye, 



192 

When you read this inflated, disdain-breathing 

speech, 
In the four winds of heaven, Sir, your carcase should 

bleach! 
As for me, boihng hot, I began — " Worthless Elf? 
Are you ought but the brat of a wabster yourself? 
Is the tear of affection less warm on the cheek 
Of a weaver, than one who counts hundreds a-week? 
Can the feelings of nature be bought or be sold? 
Can affection or friendship be bartered for gold? 
Will the friejid you address be less proud of his 

child. 
Than the Nabob, on whom rich Golconda hath 

smiPd? 
No, thou fool! for the fashion whirfd master or miss 
Have no time to attend unto domestic bless! 
Be thy prayV, then, for them, whose ilk hour, I 

hope knows it — 
Be it done in good style, or, ' by Jove! I will prose 

it;" 

Conscience struck, the red tide o'er her bosom 
roird high, 
She disdained to concede, but her tunic thrown bye, 
She began, peevish jade! such a disonant strain. 
That I trust you will ne'er wish to hear her again, 



193 

Little floweret of love, little stranger to life! 
Sweetest pledge of affection 'twixt husband and m£ei 
May'st thou love and be lov'd, be thou blessed and 

blessing, 
Till time, and time's things, shall declare thee amiss- 

ing— 
Till honoured and late, full of virtue and years, 
"Hope immortal may swallow mortality ""s fears f 
May thy parents, when striving to form thy young 

mind, 
And imbue it with knowledge, have pleasure to find. 
That their lessons of love are not lost on a heart. 
Which, I trust, will partake more of nature than art>^^ 
Though tutored intelligence claims our respect, 
Yet for this, ah! for this do not nature neglecti 
She can spread a warm charm over acts scarce worth 

notice. 
And blight by her absence where no other spot is. 

May beauty be thine, in a moderate share: 
In this case I would warmly couunend Agur's prayV; 
For when beauty impelfd by young vanity's gale, 
Bids passion unpractic'd unfiurl fashion's sail. 
It's an hundred to one, same unprincipFd spark- 
Some privileged pirate runs foul of the bark: 
Think,^and shuddering think upon poor Mrs. Clarke! 

Q 



194< 

Yes, my friend! In the cap of a woman's fair fame. 
Virgin modesty blazes the first gem youll name. 
And it is not enough that her person be pure — 
She must move in a sphere beyond suspicion's powV. 
Be thy eager endeavours, then, early and late, 
Nicest notions of honour to fix in her pate; 
And, as powerful auxiliaries, place by her side 
The essence of knowledge and tincture of pride; 
One will sound the alarm should vice steal on her 

back. 
And the other assist to repel the attack; 
AVhile, as " Like draws to like," if s the way to the 

hearts. 
Of all men who possess information and parts. 

But, as doubtless youVe tird of this bulky ha- 
rangue, 

I shall here drop the poet, and wind up my sang 

With a wish, that thro' life, life's good things you 
may share. 

That the blast of misfortune your dwelling may 
spare; 

That your consort, your cradle, your goods, and 
your gear. 

May be blessed and happy! Amen — grant God hear! 



TO MUSI R***, 
On her Weddkig Night. 

Do not start, lovely friend, nor look glumishly 

cross, 
Tho' addressMjfor the first time, by name, MrsR***; 
Nor yet deem it impertinent,^trivial, or vain. 
That I make the attempt in poetical strain; 
For tho^ slightly acquainted with you and your ways, 
Tho"* the torch of experience lend not its blaze. 
Yet the friend of your husband, the friend of his 

wife. 
Would deduce you from reason some rules for your 

life. 

You are both in that age when love''s pulse beats 

the highest, 
You have both pictured scenes, that to rapture comes 

nighest. 
And the feverish thrill of loves hope-giving toys 
Is now fairly exchanged for possession"'s fond joys: 
But beware, O beware! that the spring of your bliss, 
Do not poison the streams should your comforts enj 

crease, 

Q2 



196 

For if fancy ^be suffered to ride without reins, 
And to whip and to spur as her noddle indines, 
She m411 form such a mtiss of improbable joy — ^ 
Such an ideal paradise, nought to annoy, 
That the sober reversions of hymen's bequest 
Will be r€ckon''d unworthy a place in your breast. 
When thus tryM by the touch of a fanciful test. 
It is then of importance, that young married pairs. 
Be convinced, their wheat must be gathered 'mong 

tares — 
That they sometimes their fancied Elysium dispel, 
And revert to the world, as it is, where we dwell. 
They must lay their account to meet losses and 

crosses, 
Dished upon a thousand, fair, fraudulent glosses. 
And temper^ alike, e'en, as near as can be. 
Yet the kindest of friends will sometimes disagree. 

To the first of these evils apply resignation. 
Contentment will give you the wealth of a nation; 
And Oh! let the other be tenderly treated, 
For delicate feelings are easiest fretted ! 
If wishing life's stream you may smoothly glide down, 
Xet not either promulgate a will of their own, 
13 ut while each with the ardour of passion doth burn, 
Let each mount the throne of dominion in turn. 



197 

And let mutual comfort be mutual law— 
The man is the headj but the woman should draw 
By the chords of^ affection— this fretful colision. 
In time, will wear off by the force of attrition. 

Do not think that the lover gives place to the wife; 
The happiest of pairs are but lovers through life. 
For they mingle with distant and delicate love. 
The little attentions, that gratefully prove 
Them alike from indifference, and fondness exempt? 
<' Too much famiFaiity breedeth contempt!" 
Yet, tho"* I would depricate love en beau mmidel^ 
And would shudder to see you look " foolishly fond,' 
Do not think that I wish you, mv friends, to pre- 
serve 
A dull, formal, mysterious, wrapt up reserve: 
No, ifs confidence given, and confidence lent. 
That forms social love's most enduring cement; 
And how pleasing to share, v/ith your bosom's de- 

hght, 
The comforts of day, in the converse of night! 

Let your love for each other extend to your frlend.s. 
And be social with ail whom respect recommends; 

* The French scholar must here strain the pronimciation, as the 
phrase contains more of the autlior's meaning, than he could, rewdily, 
iSnd expressed in English. 

P3 



198 

But be sure that your friendships are cherisi.. 

same— 
Particular attentions fan jealousy's flame, 
And if once that foul fiend find a place in your 

breast, 
Farewel, ah wo's me! to all comfort and rest. 
I need hardly remind you to study frugality, 
Your station points this as an obvious quality, 
And its better when one has a penny to lend 
Than a penny to borrow, tho** ev'n from a friend. 

To wind up my harangue, (and if s time you'll 
confess,) 
Let me urge you, by virtue and prudence to press 
On that ac7rie in life, which, when age shall retrace, 
With a conscious smile will illumine your face- 
Will give pride to your spouse in his prudent elec- 
tion. 
And yield you the pleasures of grateful reflection; 
Thus virtue's reward will be found in your train, 
Ament EvV so be it — Amen, and am.en! 



TO MR GEORGE FORDYCE, 

Leadhills. 

Dear Uncle, 

And my worthy auntie. 
This hopes to find you hale and canty; 
And will inform you, that a j auntie 

We mean to liae. 
An'' haud v/i"' you a wee bit rantie 

On Newyear'^s day. 

Gif a' be right as we wad hae't, 
And weather, nae uncommon spait, 
My billie Davy taks the gait 

Wi"* me on Sunday; 
An' tho' its rather after date, 

We'll rant on Mondaj 

Ye ken, 'mong us whose purses's wee, 
Can scarcely keep aboon the bree, 
The only holiday we see. 

Worth while to sing, 
Is that which marks how time doth flee. 

On rapid v>ing, 



200 

Economy must be our ^uide, 
As down the stream of time we glide, 
Or else grim want, v/ith giant stride, 

Will soon o'ertake us — ■ 
Yet yearly feasts by friendship's side, 

Won't, surely, break us; 

And who that joins the jovial noise. 
Of friendship's roratory boys, 
But what will own his social joys 

By much augmented;. 
And every band that love employs, 

More firm cemented. 

We therefore hope, you'll auntie tell 
To have her aumrie stored well 
Wi' fish, wi' flesh, or kebbuck fell. 

It matters little, 
Provided w^e get Burton ale 

To lowse our spittle; 

Or, if a haggis you can spare. 
That's aye been counted Newyear's fare, 
Since ever I the feast to share 

Was judged able; 
And, trouth, I deem it wale o' ware 

At ony table. 



201 

O Scotia^s hope in famine"'s hold! 
Had Epicurus known of old, 
The treasure's that thy tripes unfold, 

His hare-soup luggies. 
Had a^, poor price! been fairly sold 

For Scottish haggis! 

Well then, suppose we\^e din d galore. 
Be landlord Saddler's to the fore. 
Or Otto keep an open door, 

We's hae a chappin; 
An' aiblins, follow out the splore 

Till care He napping; 

When, syne, if we can get a lass in. 
That's gude and bonny wi' a blessin'. 
Around whose heart love hotly hissin' 

Beams bright her e'e; 
Tell her she's get a gude night^s kissin', 
At least, frae me: 

For if I be not over drouthy, 
And she be ought like kind an' couthy, 
I keep as weel a gaun bit mouthy, 

As is at ween us, 
Et ergo, ilka blythesome youthie. 

At last my frien' is 



^0^2 

Failing among the fair creation, 
(And hope will sport with every station,) 
I turn me next for consolation 

To Leadhill witSj 
Whom, Fve been tokl|, for information, 

There^s few o'erputs. 

Then could we, o'er a flowing bowl, 
But meet with some congenial soul. 
Whose reason rises cheek for iowi 

With subjects muddy, 
Dark discontent far thence might growl, 

Or seek a woodie! 

But doubtless, uncle, you will think. 
If s time to drop this drowsy clink— 
This waste of paper, pen, and ink, 

On opiates nice—- 
'Tls granted true; and in a blink, 

Fm yours, Fordyce. 



TO J W Esq. 

A transcript qf^ part, his Political Creeds 

AUGUST 1816. 

O JoHNiE lad/for mony a day. 

Ye fought in Bonny's cause! 
And mony a time, nae doubt, was wae. 

When under Geordie^s tauze. 



When M — t — e and W- 



Set out their ugly horns, 
The nettles that your sides made blue, 
Were straight turned into thorns. 

Their B 's, and their W s, 

Were names made foul the air. 

Their P ^'s, and their other Dons, 

Were little better ware; 

Yet the bodies held their heads aboon 

Wi ribbonds at their lug; 
.'• Huzza, the Despot is pu'd down, 
" Helena holds him snug;!'' 



Frae Jolinie Groats to the Lautrs en' 
The creature's were ca\l clever, 

And a' but ane, perhaps, in ten. 
Cried, " Waterloo for ever!'' 

The glow-worm twinkle that did gleam 

Frae C— 's dark lantern, 
Sae dazzl'd men o' sense's e'en. 

That few saw ruin cantrin 

Hard at its heels. 

But now that time has douc'd the glim. 
And prov'd that heights have hollows, 

Let us compare our notes wi' him, 
And count the fruit that follows- 

Imprimis then, when trade was good 

And B at hame, 

Our hungriest hounds could chew their cud 

Aboon a packed wame. 

Now speir at Glasgow, speir at Perth, 

At Paisley, or Dundee, 
If hunders on a firelesa hearthj 

Are no maist lik^ to die! 



205 

Look round the market at a fair, 

Ilk face is blue's a bell; 
Ev'n Sawners Campbell squeaks dispair,* 

Because he winna sell! 

Our farmer's that were wont to hail 
The waiter, " Wine,'' or «^ Rum,'' 

Now seek a nook wi' rows an' ale, 
Or lunt their cutty dumb. 

Our wabster lads, whose rifts, last year, 
Were loud as poorfolks f — ts. 

Are growling like burnt whalps this year. 
And livin' upon scarts. 

The wright, that bought a plank frae you, 

Maun baud wi' a sap-spaii; 
And, ev'n o' the best fir e'er grew, 

Ye scarce can sell a deal! 

One half o' Britain can't get work, 

The ither can't get siller; 
And black starvation is turn'd Turk 

On a' except the miller. 

* A cant name for swine. 

R 



^06 

Our lairds and lords maun break their rent. 
Or break the tenant's credit — 

Tax-lifters stick by the auld stent, 
And never ken they did it. 

Taxation's pins are a' screwed up, 

A corditurom key; 
And Cobbett says, the strings wUl snap — 

The man may tell a lie; 

Yet fortune's gale, our bark which bore 

Aye safe, till war did cease, 
Plath left us floundering on the shore. 

Amidst the shoals of peace: 

And, 'twixt us twa, our helmsmen ken 

As little how to steer. 
As does Lord Hyndford's peaca-hen. 

The road leads to Desdeer! 

Yon hollow truce which they patched up 

Begins to jar already, 
An' diel a head can guide the cup. 

With " hand unerring steady." 

The French are sick of La! desire; 
The /ustrians praise young Bonny; 



g07 

And Russian Sawnie's brain s on fire 
'Bout subsidary money. 

Her slaughtered sons, all Europe mourn'd 
With deep felt grief and care; 

Yet, must regret the springs that turn'd 
Her wheels when he was there: 

Ambition\s gore we must deplore. 

Our hearts are not of stane; 
But, ah! the times, loud, loudly chimes. 



Rg 



TO 'MR. A***** w*****, 
Newton of Douglass > 

In answer to a Demi- Poetic effusion of his. 

(WROTE FOH A FRIEND.) 

My worthy frien' I got your letter. 
It follows, therefore, I'm your debtor. 
As seeing, you must understand, 
The sack and kitten came to hand, 
As safe, as caller, hale and frisky^ 
As ever I was drinking whisky; 
And, in my mind, a bonnier creature 
Would be a prodigy in nature: 
It's saftly sleek, and, like yourseP, 
As ony mustard it is fell. 

Agreeable to your advice, 
(And it hath served me more tlian twice.) 
I pettled up young Baudrens wi' 
The very best that I could gie; 
No milk or whey hath she been lackin". 
But thriving like a very breken, 
O' a our meals she has a part; 
And it wad glad your w^orthy heart. 



209 

To see her spread lier speckFd breast. 
For, trouth, she's grown a dainty beast; 
And what d'ye think, the little brat 
Wad fain already he a cat? 

Nae far'er back than yesternight, 
The poor thing was in piteous phght — 
Her waefu' youtes brought frae some distance 
A neighbour cat to her assistance; 
When, lo! their notes, from simple squalling, 
Advanced to downright caterwauling; 
Through every new strung nerve advancing, 
The tumult of desire w^as dancing; 
And then she heav'd sic feverish fetches — 
I plainly saw 'twas nature's twitches; 
For having snufF'd and kiss'd awee. 
They laid their half-rais'd tails agee, 
And scouring out zig-zag thegither. 
Began tig-tow ^n' ane anither, 

O nature, nature, lovely still. 
Beyond the finest painter's skill! 
How often have thy sacred laws 
Been vihfied without a cause? 
Where thou hast leave to shape thy course, 
Untrammel'd by misjudging force, 
R8 



.^10 

Thy unsophisticated sway 
Can never lead the mind astray; 
But man, vain man! in reason s pride, 
Must needs presume thy steps to guide, 
And how can such blindfold intrusion 
Produce ought else than wild confusion? 
While he, his blundering self to free, 
Doth father every fault on thee. 
Alas! what shifts must godlike reason 
Employ, her little acts to blazon, 
While silent nature's simple plan, 
In pure progression, forms the man, 
Who only genuine pleasure proves: 
Then, pussie, follow out thy loves; 
I never heard that your profession 
Brought cats for kissing to the Session!* 

So much for puss. But Andrew, trust, 
You overrate my pickle dust. 
I like a gratefu' hearted chiel, 
And mutual gifts are friendship's steel. 
Whereby the sparks of love, with ease, 
Are caird into a kindly blaze; 
Yet puff too much about a trifle, 
And, haply, we the flame may stifle. 

» "\y«««»* was an elder in the clftirch. 



Be then thy tongue restramM, my buck, 
And I shall wish your grumphie's luck; 
Tho'j to say truth, I think them creatures 
That rather wear forbiding features. 

I doubtna but ye'veread langsyne. 
How Satan entered in the swine; 
And really somefolk hereabout; 
Begin to think he's hardly out! 
They have sae mony filthy laits. 
An' are sae fu' o' thievish gaits. 
That it hath ne'er a wonder been 
To me, that they were nam'd unclean; 
Or that we're warn'd by holy quorum^ 
Never to cast our pearls afore **em! 
The famous Thankertonian sow. 
Whose fame has flown a' Scotland through;* 
Thought nought to tak' a watch and swallow't 
As easy as a Hatoe bullet! 
Therefore, when ye approach tlieir snout, 
I rede ye, keep a sharp look out: 
Saioners and I are thickest, whan 
I hear him shreichmg € the pan. 

* In allusion to the lines on a sow pulling a man's watcli from his 
pocket, which >vas published in the Glasgow Chronicle, &.c. at th« 
time. 



As for Tarn Paine— Lord rest his saul! 
He's gone where mercy smiles on all, 
And half his doctrines, by his side. 
Are sailing down oblivion's tide: 
But, tho' no dispute 111 begin 
Wi' you, a tabernacle pin, 
I'll tell you what — I like the qnirk 
That sav'd langsyne the Glasgow kirk. 

When reformation led the fashion. 
And down ilk Popish dome was dashin', 
The Glasgow kirk, ae day of grace. 
Began to totter on its base; 
For popish rites had stain'd the place. 
And down it must, reform to grace! 
Among the cro-wd, ae vrylie ^^nght 
Did hate the Pope wi' a' his might. 
Yet thought the kirk might stand full rigget, 
Till they could get anither higget-^ 
The mohy weel pleas'd, drew back a bit— 
They left the kirk — it's stan'in' yet! 

The moral's easy understood: 
Be our religion ill or good, 
It's best to stick by its strict letter. 
At least, till we can get a better. 



TO MR. A. J H********, 

Surgeon in the H<m. the East India CompamJ^ 
Service, 

If the shy Lady Muse, that has erst been my 
pride. 
Will but deign to jogg with me a page, side by side. 
You shall find, my dear Areal flatf ry apart, 
That the hussie can dictate to both head and heart 
That the fancy which floats where her councils di- 
rect, 
Can be moulded in measiu-e with friendly respect; 
^nd her vagaries wild, Avhich were wont to joam 

free. 
Can be chained in affection'^s fond prayer for thee, 

You will readily spare me my journey^s recital; 
Suffice it to say, that I'm home right and tight all, 
As heartily sick of the horse-couping craft 
^s a freshwater mariner toss'd on a raft; 
^nd as willing to mount on my auld sticks again, 
Js yon Frenchman to sell thee his trinkets of bane: 



214 

For the which, by the way, we must tender our 

thanks — 
Davie, Bell, and myself, all quite proud of sheep- 
shanks! 
Bell declares that her spoons are worth gold to a 

wife, 
^nd I never saw Davie so high in my life; 
Tho"*, betwixt us, I fear much the sly little fox 
Will be forc'd to take snuff to get showing his box! 
For myself, by your present I trust to get rich — 
You are fairly aware of my scribbling itch: 
It's a malady sunk beyond hope of a cure, 
But your kindness a paili'tive puts in my power, 
As, in moulding my paper to every size. 
Pope himself might have own'd that your knife was 

a prize. 
While in slips, chips, and corners, so saving I'll be, 
Even that rag-sparing lad shall be rivaled by me.* 
Having thus, for your gifts, made acknowledgments 

due, 
I would next, in the ardour of friendship for you, 
Give, guides to life's journey, a maxim or two, 
I am neither afraid of your head nor your heart, 
But example's contagion may prompt a base part; 
I shall therefore be bold in didactics to deal — 
It's a dangerous walk, but, if list to my tale, 

* Send it to paper-sparing Pope.— Vide Dean Swift. 



215 

Seniority'^s mine, and you"*!! see in a trice. 

That a fool may sometimes give to wisdom advice, 

Tho' the chatter of fools, and the Sectary's cant. 
May batter religion till honesty want, 
Yet its neither the fool nor the Sectary^'s zeal. 
That the stings of a guilt-lashing conscience can 

heal. 
I would therefore premise, say, in trudging life's road. 
That in private you oft correspond with your God ! 
This will teach to be honest and love one another— 
What wretch ere could pray when defrauding his 

brother? 
Benevolence hence will lit-up her bright flame, 
^nd warm charity lisp o"*er the sufFerer'^s name; 
These are virtue^s, my boy, you believe may the 

Bard, 
That will seldom eVe fail to bring home their re- 
ward. 

Let me next recommend persevering attention, 
That's due, as a debt, to each line you can mention: 
The one you have chosen hath ever laid claim 
To a niche in the j^ortals of fortune and fame, 
For, besides Hippocrates and Gallen of old. 
There are hundreds whose names have been proud- 
ly em'oird: 



€16 

The road is before you- — your march may be slow, 
But, I beg you, for God'sake! all quack'ry forego — 
There is nothing on earth so disfigures a man 
^s the puffs and the squibs of that villanous clanf 

Though it is not in mortals success to command, 
We may say on what grouad hope makes perma- 
nent stand; 
There is much may depend on your knowledge of 

man— 
A Physician must oft feel more pulses than one, 
-^nd, in suiting himself to nineteen in a score. 
Has to flatter with life e'en when death's at the doorl 
But though in some cases this needful may be. 
Be it done in a way keeps integrity free — 
The modest practitioner, wrapt up in merit, 
Will conscience and custom most likely inherit; 
Be the world as it will, «ay as bad as you can, 
Ev'nvilHans would deal with an honest-like man. 

When life dances young, and warm spirits attend, 
Much, much on the choice of your friends may de- 
pend; 
(For the world has a notion, from which it won't 

part. 
That '• Like draws to like,'' both in conduct and 
heart,) 



J 



217 

'Tis then that her signet is deepest imprest, 

But earhest friendships not always are best. 

At school or at college, a similar taste 

For mischief, for study, or talent run waste, 

Will oft make a fond, an infatuate pair, 

Believe that they could not breathe separate air! 

Alai! let the rising concussions of fame, 

The jostlings of interest or passion inflame. 

And the rainbow, evanishing 'midst of the shower, 

Not more will be found the fleet child of an hour, 

While the habits, the vice, with his breath you 

suck'd in. 
Will stick to you close as the Ethiop'*s skin, 

In your estimate, then, of companion or friend, 
Endeavour to penetrate deeper than rind — 
A graceful exterior may be of use 
When opinion runs riot, and sanctions abuse, 
But the world is shut out — all her frip'ry gives way 
When friendship holds high intellectual sway, 
And the heart of your friend, tho' but roughly en- 

cas\l. 
Is the measure by which you felicity taste: 
It is not the parasite's poisoning tale, 
Ij: is not the canvass outspread for each gale, 
^ S 



Si8 

But the helmsman of reason, to tack and to steer, 
That is to your bosom, or ought to be, dear! 

On shipboard your circle will doubtless be small, 
And therefore the band must be thrown over all. 
While, but for the sake of a social fireside. 
Perhaps there are some you had better avoid. 
Circumspection must therefore mount guard in your 

front; 
For who can take fire in his bosom unburnt? 
Or mix in the puddle, adhesive to stain, 
And still have his garments unspotted remain? 
Your danger, however, will not be so great 
From sea-faring biuntness, as more polish'd state; 
And politeness may pay from urbanity's store. 
Without setting open your own bosom's core. 

Should e'er disappointment becloud your brow, 
Or cankering care seek to silver your pozc^ 
There yet is another, a potent charm, 
Your soul to soothe, and the demon disarm. 
Like rainbow tints on the bower of spring, 
Like pearly dew on the laveref s wing, 
Like waterfall on the breeze of night. 
Now still, now deep, and now sweeping light, 
Yet ever attuning to soft delight; 



219 

So falls, on passion's chill bendless ice, 

The soothing tones of sv. eet woman's voice! 

Then, ah! be sure, if a heart you find, 

Softly sensitive^ sweetly kind, 

Never to wring, by neglect or disdain, 

Or sport with, or turn from that heart again! 

Sailors are pictured incontinent, wild, 
Still buying the smiles of misfortune's child. 
In every port, where their keel doth touch: 
But little they think, that by loving too much. 
The tone of feeling must break, must fall, 
Till sunk unable to love at ail; 
Faint, and more faintly it touches the mind, 
Till scarcely a trace is left behind. 
And the weary waste, showing bleak and bare. 
Yields nothing but reckless, ray less care! 

When prestine vigour the soul expands, 
And love links joy in her silken bands. 
Day urges day, and night steals on night, 
Ail gay with visions of young delight; 
But, the holy charm of fidelity iled, 
O hard is the pillov/ of nuptial bed! 
In vain the blaze of the banquet burns, 
In vain the eye on variety turns; 
S2 



2^0 

All cloy'clj all sated, he seeks in vain 
For pristine vigour and peace again; 
And happiness fled him, too late he finds, 
She dwells but with constant congenial minds. 

To AreaFs heart, leal, and light as air, 
I need hardly pronounce an emphatic be ware! 
But if ever temptation, in Indian climes. 
Should lead you to think on the Bardie now chimes, 
Cone o'er tlie advice his good wishes prepared— 
I conclude with assurance of highest regard. 



Wrote on the Hill above EnterJdn, 

A M'£LD PASS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE LOUTHElls 

Hills on hills stupendous rise. 
Hills on hills salute the skies, 
Hills on every side are seen; 
Scarce a fertile spot between. 

Among those dingles dread and deep, 
Gayly feeds the mountain sheep; 
Sportive lambs around them play — 
Fancy paints a distant day. 

When tliose dells that intervene 
Shelter gave to robbers keen — 
Pierce banditta, whose dark deeds 
The peaceful swain with horror reads. 

Blessed change! Our sober times 
Know not such unrully crimes: 
So secure our flocks now feed, 
The CcC would scarcely lift their heads. 

S3 



Stillj among that lawless crew. 
Deeds were done might shame us now- 
Wild romantic trust and love — 
Courage calm, that nought could move, 

Scorn of wrong, and vengeance dread. 
If sanction''d not by mountain-creed; 
And generous acts, turns avarice pale. 
Were found 'mong thieves of A^^^^^^^^l^- 

Go, ye gallows dreading knaves! 
Go, ye law-restrained slaves! 
And learn to mix, with maudlin merit, 
Some portion of this thievish spirit. 



honors* 



The Maid's Mind — plain dealirig. 

Shall I live and love another? 

Shall I still that other see? 
Can I live and love another. 

Yet gae marry, lad, wi"* thee? 
O gae o'er your suit then Jamie, 

Fot, the truth I only tell. 
Its the lad that I can marry 

I maun love him like myseP. 

You have made my frien's consent, 

A' the frien's that I respect; 
You have made my frien's consent, 

And my heart I think they'll break! 
That's no the gaet o't Jamie, 

It will never do dye see; 
For the lad that I can marry, 

He maun first gae spier at me. 



224 

Did these friends through Hfe me carry, 

O, perhaps, it might do welJ; 
But the lass that gangs to marry, 

She maun marry for herseP; 
And though numbers may miscarry, 

Yet, we surely must confess. 
She's a fool who does not marry 

Where she hopes maist happiness. 



Kiss my fast, my Mither*s comin\ 

Blythe Jockie's arms, a fond embrace, 

Were twin'd around young Jenny's waist— 
A fairer form, a finer face; 

A sweeter lip he ne'er will taste; 
A kinder, truer, warmer heart. 

Beat never in the breast of woman: 
Soft it seem'd to sigh apart, 

" Kiss me fast, my mither's cominT' 

The yellow broom-wood gently wav'd, 

The foggy couch that held their heads, 
The breeze of evening softly lav'd 

The lovel y pair with pearly beads — 
The still retreat of gloamin' grey, 

Broke by vesper beetle bumin'; 
Time and place, all seem'd to say, 

" Kiss me fast, my mither's comin\" 

The glowing blush of parting day 

Was pale, compared with Jenny's check. 

As on her Jocky's breast she lay; 
And drank the vows he scarce could speak— 



Her heaving bosom^s quicker play. 
Love and hope around did summon. 

Forcing each soft sigh to say, 

" Kivss me fast, my mither's cominy** 



i 



TINTO BONFIRE 

JVrote at the Celebration of a Fete, given on the 
top of Tinto^ in honour of the Allies entering 
Paris, March 1814. 

Sons of toil! happy met, loyal hearts good and true! 
Let a nation this night to afar speak by you 
See the beacon arise, see our bonfire increase; 
Ifs the hope — it's wish of a people for peace! 

CHORUS. 

All hail, sweet peace! may thy reign rise around! 
May the hopes of thy people successful be crown'd' 
May tlie advocates of war melt away before they 

smile, 
And thy green olive wreath long encircle our Isle! 

On this mountain our altars were raised of yore; 
In this temple our forefathers God did adore, 
Holy jird^ here to blaze, night or day did not cease; 
Can the spot be profan d by the pure flame of peace? 
No! — Hail, sweet peace, &c. 

* From the name of the hill— from vestages of wood being found 
near the top, and a Drrdd's Temple, ahuost entire, on one of it's 
skirting hillocks; there can be little doubt but what it was formerly a 
place of worship. 



'2^8 

Cer the tomb of some hero we doubtless do stand, 
Whose cair'n'^ hath been heap'd by warm gratitude'^s 

hand; 
Will his shade not rejoice, on our smoke's curling 

fleece. 
That we vanquished our foes at the last and made 

peace. 

Yes! — Hail sweet peace, &c. 

In the ' Garb of old Gaul" we the world long defy'd; 
To the sons of proud Gaul we the world long deny'd! 
Yet the manes of our heroes to sing will not cease, 
That we fought, and we bled still, for honour and 
peace. 

Then hail sweet peace, &c. 

But when anarchy''s madness in tyranny ends, 
And when tyranny's bulwarks to liberty bends; 
When Europe is free, and her bells joyous chime. 
It is then that the hearts of her people thinks time 
To hail sweet peace, &c. 

* According to the erudite Chalmers, Cairns are ivtiiformly found 
to be the burying place of departed warriors. 



NOTES 

TO 

A COUNTRY WEDDING. 



1 Fair Katie' s flitting sIon>hj led. To the greater part of my read- 
ers this Poem will need no explanation; but should it ever fall into 
the hands of any person not altogether acquainted with the details of a 
Covmtry Wedding, it may not be improper to observe, that a country 
bride, full of that confidence which is the soul of love, always sends the 
whole of her property to the bridegroom, on the day or morning be- 
fore their marriage. 

2 Aunt RacheVs mounted on Marthi's aiver. The " flitten" is 
generally attended by some maiden amit, married sister, or other re- 
spectable relation of the bride, whose business is to show off her '' pro- 
viding," distribute the presents, make up the bridegroom's beds, &c. 

3 What a saclcfiC lint I A country girl makes it her study to lay 
Yap as much as possible of that article against the day of her marriage. 
The produce of a forpet of seed, every year, is, at least, laid bye: and 
the first thing she does, after settled in her own house, is to set about 
.spinning a linen web. 

4 Take care of that tul) for the pign/s in't. Considerable im- 
portance is attached to the giving and receiving of presents on bridal 
occasions. Some little articles of stone ware are generally resorted to, 
as a cheap and ready token of esteem. Hence, if the party be belov- 
ed and respectable, she has ahvays a large collection of pigs; which, for 
fault of a better package, are frequently put in the washing- tub — an 
indispensible appendage. The arranging of these in the shelf and 
cupboard, forms part of Aunt Hachel's business. I had forgot to say, 
that breaking of pigs is sometimes looked on with a kind of super- 
stitious eye, as betokening evil. 

5 If the beds a-ere made^ then a' is ready. IMuch exertion is made 
by the humble bride to muster up a sufficient quantity of bed-clothes, 
from eight to twelve pair of blankets is about the ordinary run. and 
the bridal bed must be decked with an enormous weight of the finest 
and the best of them. 

T 



230 



6 An'' here's fwj saris frae the Holland reed. The bridegrooni 
and bestnian are each presented with a shirt by the bride, in which 
the wedding is to be held. " The Holland reed," is a phrase, Used 
by some old women, to denote stiong well made cloth — strong like 

IMkinds. 

7 Se.nd the sign atoay^ 

An' see that your bra' rchite n-and te peePd. Two or three of the bride- 
groonrs particular friends are dispatched, sonie minutes before the 
rest of the company, to apprise tlie bride's party of the bridegi-oom's 
approacli; from wliich they are named the Sign or Sene. The custom 
is stiH imperative of first kissing the bride, and then aU the rest of the 
women present in succession. The " white wiuid," is commonly a 
sprig of willow or hazel, stripped of its bark, and carried by the. bride- 
groom tiU married, when he hands it to one in the company whom he 
thinks most likely to be next in the same situation. I have not been 
Jtble to trace the origin of this. 

8 Again their tcif at his cxpence tvouU glance. The bridegroom 
is treated with very little ceremony on the morning of his wedding, as 
seen above. If he has the courage to rally again, a good field is open- 
ed for the display of rustic pleasantry. 

y Nozo they are joiii'd let the hroesers ply. It is deemed a great 
honour to him who gets first to the bridegroom's house, besides con- 
tributing much to the amusement of the day. Hence, there are al- 
ways numbers ready to spirit on a contest. This is productive of 
many a good race, as all eyes are upon them, (the law of broeses not 
permitting to stai^ till the parties are declared married persons,) and 
the point of honour, when once engaged, not permitting them to yield. 
The cook meets the first at the door with a laddkfid of hroc., or broth, 
Vv'hich he must taste, and leave a shilling in the laddie — Alienee the 
name hrocs. 

10 Here comes tlie lottle and the glass. The gainer of the hroe gets 
a bottle of wliisky, and coming back till he meets the bride, his health 
is drank by the v/hole company; doubtless the most gratifying part of 
his reward. 

i 1 See that the bread and the cheese be ready. A lunch of bread 
and cheese is broke over her head standing in the threshold. It seems 
uncertain whether this ceremony be meant emblematical of plenty or 
a propitiatory sacrifice to the presiding Deities. From the old sopg, 
am rather inclined to think tlie first: 

This is no mine ain house, 
I ken't by the biggen o't. 
There's bread an' cheese in my door cheeks, 
And pancakes i'the riggen o't! 
A small piecej put below the head at night, never fails to procure 



€31 

pleasant dreams, likely of them we love — this quality, of rourse, 
gives an interest to the scene, and produces a bustle, a confusion, and 
competition truly laughable. 

12 Ilcr aidd gudcmWie?- present', her the Iceys. The insignia of 
office* and authority. The ceremonies that follow are probably ini- 
tiatory, or to remind the young gudev/ife, that her chief business is 
with these articles, in the way of cookery and economy. 

13 Wi" " you're xvelcome hame:' The name of a tune played 
before the bride on approaching her own house: 

Ye been lang awa, 
I thought lang to see thee, 

N ine nights awa, 
Welcome hame my dearie! 

14 Mini the rump is her ain. That part of the tail which remain!! 
with the hind quarter, always set before the bride. 

15 These are attention's Anne's oxen conduct claim' d. In the in- 
terim between dinner and drawing the table, the author has sometime* 
seen a battery erected with little crumbs of bread, &c. frequently be- 
gun by some waggish girl who hath ' drunk assurance from the eye 
of him her heart elected for its love.' It is always done in a watching, 
sly manner, so that the person hit may not see by whom. T^everthe 
less the ringleaders are mostly found out, and generally well paid in 
kind. 

16 Join hands across and let the keoers ring. The*c€remony here, 
though not exactly the same, is nearly similar to that mentioned, at 
the '• Real Highland AVedding Feast." — Notes to Clan-albin.— . 
The fidler generally plays during the dinner, though not any 
thing particularly appropriated to the occasion. At tha word Amen, 
" Every one crosses his arms on his breast, and gives a hand to his 
right and his left hand neighbour," The verse pointed off in the 
text is simg in full chorus, " The entA\ined arms swong with abun- 
dant violence;" and the conclusion greeted with a strong clapping of 
hands. Tliis is repeated three times, and the party rise to prepare 
for dancing. The other verse is added merely to justify the name 
' Anthem.' 

17 Tfte bride's reel this. The dance is generally opened by the 
bride, bestman, and maidens &c. of course the first reel is named the 
bride's. 

18 The great 'punchloxvl snug in its coiner plac'd. Thepvmch- 
bowl is placed in a corner of the barn, set round with deal seats, which 
are replaced in succession by the different parties of dancers^ as they 
become fatigued and weary for a toothfu'. 



QS2 

19 Sui tastom is pressing. 

That Bob-at'e-bowster be danced ere you go. This is a eufetom 
*' More honour'd in the breach than the observance." The bestman 
takes a pocket-handkerchief, and after cutting a number of capers 
round the barn, to a particular tune, catches a girl, kisses her, and 
gives her the handkerchief. She must follow him round the bam, 
and then throw it at another man—he kisses her, follows round the 
ring, and then takes up another woman — ^moving round in a circle^ 
and repeating this till the whole is in motion. Some one is then 
placed in the middle, axid the circle reduced by the same process. 

20 iVoa; Kate, ty my trouth^ ye have gien Mm a cowl. It is the 
bride's province to furnish the bridegroom's weddmg night-cap, from 
the cloth of her bodice, or stays. He, in return, has to send her a 
pair of pockets from his wedding coat; in which must be a Bible, and 
a bit of each of the different current coins of the realm— *an excellent 
purse-penny during the married state. 

21 In honour of the Author's originality, he has to observe, that 
this poem was wrote some months before the publication of the Edin- 
burgh Magazine, Nos. 2d and 3d, of which, began such an animated 
description of a Country Wedding. It is to be regretted that the 
description was not finished by one seemingly so well fitted for the 
task: — ^it might have superseded the necessity, or materially assisted in 
the formation of these notes. The greatest difference I observed was 
in the treatment of the hroes^ or hroos^ as there spelt. Perhaps both 
are right, allowing for the difference of custom in Covington, and tb» 
" famous parish of Woolenhorn." 



THE END. 



W. M. Borthwwk ^ Co, Printers, 



^^^l 41949 



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